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#Conversations I Have Had With Edgar Allan Poe
thatsbelievable · 19 days
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beatlesdiscord · 4 months
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Brian: want to hear a joke?
George M.: I don't know. is it funny?
Brian: it's hilarious!
George M.: no.
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maleyanderecafe · 1 month
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The Kid at the Back (Visual Novel)
Created by:𝖋𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖘𝖎𝖆 | TealCat
Genre: Thriller/Romance
The Kid at the Back is very cool looking and technically well done. I love all the character designs made in this one and Sol himself is pretty interesting at least that's what it sets itself up to be. All routes lead to the same ending though which is r18 considering that we basically see him jacking off to the main character's voice.
The story starts out with Darling Quinn finishing class. One of their classmates, Brittney tries to get them to join them for lunch together while the class representative, Crowe Ichabod comes in to defend Darling from her. Darling can then choose to go with Brittney to the cafeteria, go to the library or go to the rooftop.
Choosing to go to the cafeteria with Britney will lead to meeting a couple of other characters: Jess, a shy girl who follows Britney around, Deryl the friendly jock and Geo, the quiet cool kid. If the player has their own lunch, they will sit down and talk to Geo and Deryl for a bit as they have their playful banter while going with Britney will have a conversation with Crowe. In the end though, Britney's outfit is ruined by another girl who seems to have beef with her, before the entire cafeteria gets thrown into a food fight. In the end, Darling gets hit in the head with one of the trays causing them to pass out and end up in the infirmary. Crowe stays for a bit after Darling wakes up but ultimately leaves for classes. Darling ends up seeing another student who seemingly has had his hand cut and he gets bandaged up before Darling ultimately goes back to art class.
Choosing to go to the roof will lead to Darling going to the roof to eat lunch, only to end up accidentally eavesdropping on someone during a call. The boy, Hyugo, asks Darling for a favor to take his place as he needs to ditch his partner, Sol, in his next class to do something.
Choosing to go to the library will lead to them going there to read, only to find someone in their seat. There are a couple of ways this can go depending on choice. The one with the least interaction is sitting next to him then going to class afterwards to see him in the back. Sitting in another seat will lead to Darling seeing a commotion in the back where the guy is getting beat up. Here, they can either step in or chicken out. Chickening out will lead them feeling guilty when the two meet up in class, but helping them out will prevent him from getting bandaged later. Talking to him directly leads to the most interaction with him, with Sol getting more snarky with the player, and asking what they will give him in return. The best response is to just demand him to give them their seat back, to which he refuses and Darling ends up sitting on them, causing them to blush and start talking about the book he's reading, Edgar Allan Poe and well as what books that Darling has been reading before the two head to class. Choosing to do something intimate will lead to Darling asking if he wants a hug to which he makes a confused response and Darling will end up sitting next to him after a bit of awkwardness. They can also offer to buy him a drink where they can choose (the latte will have the best response out of him) before they head to class.
Darling will end up spotting Sol in the back seat (as the name implies) though will have different reactions depending on their interaction with Sol, to feeling embarrassed that they left him to get bullied, to surprised if the two met in the library etc. The professor will ask everyone to pair up and Darling is left to partner up with Sol. The two will introduce themselves to each other, before deciding who will be drawn first. Sol will have different interactions based off whether Darling declares they're good at drawing to bad at drawing as well as which route they took (and how much affection he has towards them.) So this can vary from him getting embarrassed that Darling is trying to draw him from a 3/4ths angle to, to him brushing hair away from Darling's face that gets them flustered, to talking about Hyugo and others. It all really depends on previous interactions. At the end, while Darling is leaving, Sol will ask for their number as a way to keep in touch with them for the project. Upon leaving, they'll also see a poster for the Hallow's Ball. Upon returning to the dorm and eating, Darling will talk to their other friends, Geo, Deryl, Brittney, Jess and Krowe about the ball. They will then text Sol about the ball, who seems hesitant, but ultimately agrees to go knowing Darling is going. The last scene is Sol masturbating to Darling's messages, implying he's done it before and that he's happy that they finally were able to talk.
So first thing I have to say off the bat is I really like the designs of all the characters. They all have their own charm and are unique, which I can always appreciate. I also like that Brittney isn't really like the mean girl she's depicted as she is considering she pretty much just asks Darling to come eat with them and basically only really fights when she gets attacked first. Kind of a minor thing, but I do like it. Small animation in the main menu is nice as well. One of the things I think is cool is that there are slightly different reactions to how you meet Sol when the two of you draw each other, which can lead to different CGs and dialogue, which is a subtle but nice way to give bits of information about them and more interaction with him without having to write out a bunch of scenes.
Sol as a yandere, well there's currently not a ton considering it's a demo, however, we still do get a semi good idea on what he does know. For one, we know that Sol has been stalking Darling for a while, given his comments at the end, and that he has been listening to their voice for a bit. I do like seeing his more flustered reactions in some cases, like when Darling sits on his lap or when they're drawing him, because flustered yanderes are the best. It's likely that he probably got a favor for Hyugo on his route, considering it's very coincidental, and it would make sense that he would manipulate the situation so that he would end up hanging out with Darling. Sol it seems has been dealt a hard hand in life, considering he always gets bullied or otherwise hurt by others. Still, this could also in itself be a manipulation tactic in terms of getting Darling to care about him, which would make him technically a Damsel yandere, something I would be very happy to see, since that's something that I would love to see more in yandere content in general. But yeah, other than that he seems like emo (gothic? punk? I don't know styles), and a bit awkward.
Overall, he seems very cute and the game itself is very well made. I hope we get to see more of it in the future because it does seem like something that does have a lot of potential in what kind of yandere can come later on.
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Assorted Batkid Headcanons
During the middle days of Damian being Dick’s Robin, he was still figuring out how to show affection in a nonviolent way, so he just kept getting Dick fish. His logic was ‘Grayson has issues taking care of himself, so I will get him a pet that even he will find easy to care for’.
As a result Dick has an entire tank of various fish, all named Jim after Jim Gordon.
Dick finds this hilarious. Babs finds this hilarious. She’ll casually mention something ‘Jim’ did in conversation with her dad and watch as he bluescreens.
Tim has the pallet of a five year old. All he likes are exceedingly sugary sweet foods everyone else wants to puke while eating.
As a result, all he drinks are those stupidly sugary energy drinks that leave you seeing god after a few minutes. Is this unhealthy? No, it’s a liquid, therefor water, therefor good - Tim Drake.
Duke has purposefully broken his wrist to see if he would light up like a glowstick before. It didn’t work.
Cass shows her affection through objects, so a Batkid will often walk into their residence to find something like a metal bottle cap or a feather neatly placed on their table, without any security triggered or any other indication anyone was ever here. They all know to treasure these, no matter what they are.
Jason, given he’s built like a tank, will often hold things out of reach from people just to Be An Asshole. He loves it.
Damian used the same method of affection on Steph when she was his Batgirl, but had a bit more faith in her ability to not let something die, so he kept getting her small rodents, like hamsters and rats. She named them all after characters from Supernatural.
Stephanie had a huge Supernatural phase when she was 13 and never really grew out of it. She’s tried out summoning rituals from the show before.
Every single Batkid had a Warriors phase. Every. Single. One.
Dick was SO FUCKING HAPPY when Duke showed up because he finally had a brother who would happily give him a hug without having a panic attack due to TouchFuckery.
Steph has referred to the Batfam as “Furry Touchfucked McNuggets” before. No one questions it because she’s right.
Babs has designated snacks for every occasion. Program Taking Too Long To Load is Cheetos. Bruce Being a Bitchass On the Comms is popcorn. Done With This Bullshit For Good, I Swear is Twix.
Tim’s Notes app on this phone is entirely filled with sleep deprived 4am rants about why Star Trek is the superior franchise. He’s very passionate about it.
One time Bart was bored so decided to raid the pantry and he found Damian crouched on one of the top shelves, hissing like a cat and clutching a box of Weetabix. He took a picture and now it’s the YJ discord group icon.
Not exactly Batfam but the YJ Core Four + Cissie have a discord group chat and Tim’s the mod.
Damian loves Weetabix. Idk if anyone else knows what that is but that shit was my fucking childhood so he loves it.
Duke has tried and is currently trying to unionize all the kid sidekicks. They’re getting there.
Jason’s favorite authors are Mary Shelley and Jane Austen. Pride and Prejudice is his comfort book that he often reads after patrolling as way to wind down. He fucking hates Edgar Allan Poe with a passion for reasons he refuses to explain.
Cass will sometimes teach some dance moves to little kids while on patrol. Sure, she knows it’s not stopping violence, but when she sees another little girl with scars on her palms and wary eyes light up as she twirls in the air and laugh as she leaps, she thinks it’s worth it. More than worth it.
Jason’s found her doing this sometimes. Neither of them say anything.
The Batkids all love Jon. Yeah, move over Damian, don’t keep him all to yourself. They may have their own supers/alien besties, but Jon is just adorable, and they all want to smoosh the cheeks of a kid who won’t attempt to stab them for it. Look, he’s so cute. The day anyone bullies Jon beware, because the entirety of Gotham’s vigilante force will be there to wreak havoc upon you.
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snzhrchy · 1 year
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I have a request!! Ajax x reader who is really outgoing and people see her as super annoying so they’re mean to her, one day Ajax catches her crying bc she’s fed up with it, and he confesses/they kiss.
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— ☆ MORE THAN THAT !
ajax petropolus x fem!reader
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synopsis; just how you and your best friend's relationship developed into something more.
notes; think i projected here a lot haha.
taglist; lmk if u wanna be on it
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You were just trying to be nice. You didn’t know how you ended up like this. One minute, you’re trying to have a conversation with Bianca and the next? You’re crying under the Edgar Allan Poe statue.
It’s always been like this, you thought. People would always mistake your kindness for something else — most would either take advantage of it or make fun of it. Today was your last straw.
You had had enough of the vampire boys and the siren girls constantly torturing your mind; it was getting exhausting. And for once, you finally broke down today.
You were never the one to run away from a fight but today was different. You actually ran away from them. From their constant remarks. Today, you finally let the tears fall and you finally freed your emotions — the emotions you’d been trying to bottle up for so long.
Ironic, wasn’t it? Being treated as an outcast in a school that was made for outcasts.
It hurt. The constant insults and slandering of you behind your back; you never truly knew how anyone ever felt about you. When was the last time you ever had someone to call your friend? You couldn’t even remember.
Well, one person did come into mind: Ajax Petropolus.
From your first day at Nevermore, he’d been the only person who’d shown you any type of kindness. Hell, he was the only person who didn’t treat you like the rest.
With Ajax, you felt at peace. You felt like you could talk to him about anything and everything without the fear of ever being ridiculed. You trusted him very much.
The sound of boots clicking across the dirty marble floor caused you to jump and quickly wipe off all the tears that streamed down your face. You tried to prevent the tears from falling but were unsuccessful. You didn’t want anyone to see you like this — crying.
The sounds started to get louder, they were nearing towards you. In a panic, you aggressively cleaned your face and attempted to make yourself look presentable.
‘Knew I’d find you here!’ The person spoke, their voice was raspy yet comforting — it was Ajax. The only person you wanted to see right now.
You weakly smiled at him and gave him a small wave as if to distract from the fact that you have been crying. Yet your attempts were futile once Ajax noticed. He cursed as he walked over to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him.
‘Were you crying?’ He asked, turning to look at your face which has really noticeable tears stains; ‘wait — that’s a stupid question. I mean, how are you feeling?’
You chuckled at the first part of his statement — he really knew how to cheer you up or atleast, make you forget about your problems.
‘I’m better now,’ you slowly told him as he traced his fingers across your arm. ‘That’s great — who made you cry? Maybe I can stone them,’ he suggested.
‘Oh y’know — the same old people, nothing to worry about.’
‘They fought with you? Again?’
‘Yes but it’s no big deal, it happens all the time.’
Ajax turned to look at you, he had a stern expression on his face. ‘No big deal? C’mon, Y/N, they’ve been doing this since you arrived here and—‘ ‘and that’s why I’m used to it,’ you stated, ‘trust me, it’s nothing.’ He sighed, ‘well, if you say so.’
You both sat in silence for a while, just enjoying each other’s presence. Your tears had stopped falling a long time ago — the entire situation had been forgotten; you just wanted to be with him right now.
‘Hey, listen…’ Ajax began, grabbing your attention, ‘don’t listen to them, they’re wrong about everything they’ve ever said to you.’
You removed yourself from his embrace and sat up, looking at him bewildered. ‘What do you mean?’ you questioned.
‘Well, they make fun of your looks and mock your personality but they're all wrong,' he continued, 'you're beautiful and you're not annoying at all — far from it. You're the best thing to have happened to me.'
The ends of your lips slowly curved into a small smile, 'thanks,' you managed to respond. He turned his head to face you, 'I really mean it,' he stated as one of his hand gently touched your face and wiped off a tear that you didn't know had escaped your eyes.
You both stared into each other's eyes for a while until Ajax finally closed the gap between you two. You slowly shut your eyes tight as you kissed him back.
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soleelia · 4 months
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Okay so, I am desperate for Poe oneshots (i love him so much T^T) idk what specific scenario, soo surprise me Bwhahab
down bad for our resident master architect of the guild, eyyy ~~ here ya go, resident poe simp !! can u tell i've been replaying taylor all day long-
love, lia
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wonderstruck, dancing all alone
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edgar allan poe felt enchanted to meet you.
one look at you, and oh, he’s tripping over himself trying to figure out a way to approach and talk to you, but he stays rooted in place, too nervous to actually do anything.
it’s pathetic, he thinks, that all that renders him immobile is the sight of… you. a deity, bathed in glorious moonlight, dressed to the nines fitting for the party he had attended. the night was sparkling and flawless, and he’ll never let it go, no matter how much time has passed since this fateful night. it was enchanting to meet you, and he was absolutely wonderstruck as soon as you stepped through the decorated doorway into the ballroom.
and here he is in the far corner, nursing a drink that’s been cold for far too long, unable to work up the courage to actually go up and talk to you, no matter how hard he tries to move. the lingering question in his mind kept his gaze glued to his drink instead, trying to figure out a way to ask if you would somehow grace him with your presence for a waltz, a drink, perhaps even a stroll in the gardens outside, surrounded by flowers and the magical temptation to sweep you off your feet and take you home. anything, anything, really, to have you in his arms, even just for a short period. anything, just so he can gaze at you with love in his eyes, a fond smile adorning his lips, if you’ll let him, of course.
but how can he make those thoughts of his into a reality, when he is still stuck in his corner, unable to actually express his feelings verbally to you?
he wishes with all his might that somehow, you’ll end up in his vicinity, and take pity on him, the artist, the author, the simple man. he’ll spend forever wondering if you knew that he was enchanted to meet you. 
your eyes whispered ‘have we met?’, a silent question directed at the mysterious man in the corner, your ballgown swishing along with your walk towards him, and oh, you swear your heart just got pierced by cupid, because how dare a man so beautiful as he exists in this world? to you, he was adonis reincarnate, and you wonder how long he’s been there, silently watching the party unfold. surely, no harm will be done if you ask him for one dance? 
one dance. that was all, really, just one dance with this strange man you now knew as edgar allan poe, just one dance, and it was all it took for you to repeat the silent prayer inside your head, that this was just the very first page of your storyline, not the ending of your chapters together.
his thoughts will echo your name until he sees you again, and poe knows he will never experience this feeling with anyone else that’s not you. these are the words he held back as he was leaving too soon, but he already knew that he will spend the rest of his life thanking his lucky stars that he met aphrodite that fateful night, and he held heaven in his arms.
nothing will ever compare to this feeling.
so as he leaves, you stay behind at the party, the memories of dancing with poe replaying in your head, and it was not until your friend pointed out the rose color dusting your cheeks or the fact that you still gazed longingly at the corner where you spotted him that you realized: so this is love…
the moon will sing a song tonight, and the stars will accompany its symphony, and you bask in its glow, ignoring the noise of the party behind you, the dancing of strangers, and the laughter that comes with hushed conversations. instead, you turn your gaze up at the moon, lovely, brought, and beautiful, and wish for something you hope will come true.
please, you thought, your painted lips curving up at the reminiscence of him, don’t be in love with someone else.
unbeknownst to you, poe felt the same, gazing at the moon that shined upon him on his manor’s balcony. he sighs, the cold wind comforting him, as he whispers to himself, “please, don’t have somebody waiting on you…”
the author and his muse, forever entwined in fate and love.
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em-dash-press · 7 months
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What Writers Need to Know About Personification
The term “literary devices” might seem super professional, but you’re likely already using tons of them in your stories. Let’s take a closer look at personification to better understand why it’s so helpful for both readers and writers.
What Is Personification?
You can spot personification by looking for non-human things that have human characteristics, like:
Emotions
Thoughts
Intentions
Although a teapot coming to life and singing a song might qualify, these characteristics are more subtle.
Personification is also a form of description. It makes stories more vivid and can pull at the emotional undertones of a scene. 
Examples of Personification in Literature
Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree
“Once there was a tree / And she loved a little boy.”
Trees obviously don’t have feelings because they don’t have brains. However, the reader forms an essential bond with this tree immediately after starting this story because we know the tree can love. It’s a relatable emotion.
Edgar Allan Poe’s The Tell-Tale Heart
“Death, in approaching him, had stalked with his black shadow before him, and enveloped the victim.”
Death is a thing that happens. It’s not a person. Poe gives it actionable human characteristics to set a creepy tone by giving Death legs that stalk its next victims. An actionable force is more intimidating than something that just happens.
L.M. Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables
“Diana and I were only over in the Haunted Wood. It’s lovely in the woods now. All the little wood things—the ferns and the satin leaves and the crackerberries—have gone to sleep, just as if somebody had tucked them away until spring under a blanket of leaves.”
Picturing things like ferns and berries falling asleep creates a soothing emotional vibe. Because this also appears in dialogue, it’s clearly Character A trying to make Character B feel reassured and calm. 
Effects of Personification
We already use personification in real-world conversation, so we know its effects personally. We might say that the sun smiled down on us during a great day or the light on a lake danced across the rippling water.
Personification adds humor and lightness to scenes. It can also create suspense, like the Edgar Allan Poe example above. It lends more emotional weight so readers engage with whatever’s on the page. When used occasionally or sparingly, it’s an effective storytelling tool.
If you’re using personification in every paragraph, you’ll create a whimsical vibe that’s best for fairytale-type stories. Otherwise, readers could feel like your story is too wordy and doesn’t take itself seriously.
FAQs About Personification
What Are the Rules of Personification?
Personification uses a human-like verb to give a noun human traits. It can also give nouns human emotions or thoughts. As long as a non-human object or concept expresses a human action, thought, or feeling, personification can make stories more engaging.
What Does Personification Apply To?
Writers apply personification to non-human objects or ideas. You can make Death into a character with emotions or a house look exhausted from stress from the family tension within it.
What Are the Common Effects of Personification?
Personification gives life or relatability to objects or ideas that otherwise wouldn’t have a human experience.
Why Does Personification Matter?
Readers enjoy personification because it draws them into the story by making a character or scene element relatable. They form a personal, memorable connection with your story.
-----
Using personification may feel like it should be instinctive, but learning about it makes you a better writer. Think about it critically to study how it works and make it transform your WIPs.
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ryverbind · 3 months
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Faceless Fixation: Cat-FISHER [19]
A/N: in honor of 50k on Wattpad, LET'S GET ITTTTTT!!!!
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VIOLETVIOLENCE: it's really pathetic that i have to pull you aside like a child to tell you to tone down your shit.
VIOLETVIOLENCE: grow up.
SALLYFʌCɜ: grow up? look who's talking. might i remind you of a verbatim quote by yours truly... "lint licking, cunt flap, cum infested puss bubble of a fucklet"
VIOLETVIOLENCE: i give back what i receive. you can dish but you can't take?
SALLYFʌCɜ: i can take twice as much as i dish.
VIOLETVIOLENCE: i'm so sure that you can. fuck off, sal. quit being an asshat.
SALLYFʌCɜ: so now it's asshat? what happened to llcfcipbf? you're losing your creativity. do better, your fall from grace is disappointing even to me
VIOLETVIOLENCE: fuck you.
SALLYFʌCɜ: i'm sure you want to
He's real fucking cheeky. Excited, if you will. What's gotten into him?
Three days ago, while purposefully and pleasurably butchering Sal's character in Dead By Daylight, if anyone would have told me that the bane of my miserable existence and I would have a personal chat box open— I'd have laughed in your face. I'd have gone full Edgar Allan Poe. You would be in a Speed Bump Grave™️. I'd hear your phantom heart beat under my floor boards.
And now, here I am, simultaneously working through the worst shift of the week and having to bitch at Sally Face Fisher via discord DM's.
I don't know what I've done. Maybe it's just my existence, I'm not sure, but he's targeting me. It's horrifically bad. Every message from him, even if he's in the middle of conversing with one of the other of The Faces, has something about me included. And it is always shitty.
I'm not scared of him, how could I ever be? So I opted (more like I was seconds away from punching his scrotum through my phone screen) to reach out to him personally and nicely ask him to stop... okay so that's obviously a lie but I had to threaten and insult him back. It was the only way I'd feel better.
But now I'm stuck with this loaded last message from him and I have no idea how to continue. Because it's a repeat. A repeat of that fated Discord call that threw my entire existence askew for a week. Or four. Maybe I'm still askew.
His necklace isn't under a shoe in the farthest corner of my room for no reason, after all.
Today was supposed to be simple. Not easy because working at the diner is never easy, but simple. Simple fucking worked. And now I have this conversation with Sally hanging over my head when I was actually looking forward to what's meant to come after I finish my shift.
I brought my mask with me today. My plan is to immediately go back to that mask store after my shift and convince the sweet woman who helped me to sign her work, give me her name, a business card— literally anything so I can tell the world who gave me my start. But now I'm anxious enough to plead not guilty by reason of insanity due to not-so negligent or accidental arson. And on top of that, I'm starting to map out an intricately laid out plan for Sal's Speed Bump Grave™️. Today's ordeals have taken my mind by storm and I'm about to bring everyone down with me in this descent toward madness.
I'm just angry. And bothered. And low key wanting to message Sal back with, "Yea, I am. What are you gonna do about it?" But I must stay strong. I must soldier on. I know the repercussions, I've tasted them for myself— felt them burn my lungs to a crisp. I went through what felt like decades of chain smoking in just mere seconds.
And it's all because of—
A chime rings. A chime that came from my phone. It echoes through the diner's break room, startling me so hard that I nearly leap out of my chair. It's like waking up from a dream where you suddenly start falling.
What was that? What just popped up in my notifications?
Unknown: are you a poe fan, by chance?
My kingdom. My entire kingdom for a chance to start making a Speed Bump Grave™️. For myself? For Sal? For the inexplicable human race? I don't even know anymore.
I thought he'd given up on Lexi. So what the hell is this? Why now? Why today? Why right after he finished— flirting? Baiting?— me.
My mind goes blank. Maybe... maybe he's onto me. Maybe he knows. That I'm Lexi. And now he's finally decided to enact his revenge. On today of all days, when I feel so sick with anxiety and paranoia that I could throw up every square inch of my bowels. My feminine rage is so ragey that I wouldn't be shocked if I sprouted a pair of testicles just so I'd have an excuse for whatever bruised masculinity I'm experiencing right now. Sal must be projecting on me all the way from Nockfell.
Never in my entire life have I felt so hopeless, so cornered. Every time I feel this way, I think it can't possibly get any worse.
And yet.
Me: umm, can't say that i am! don't know much about him.. but how are you, sally!
I don't know what's possessed me. In a normal world, I would have blocked him by now. Or better yet, if I wasn't so disgustingly deplorable and had a damn backbone, I'd have texted him a picture of myself and said "Haha, gotcha bitch!"
The sad truth in this way-too-real life scenario is that I don't have a backbone. And I'm too far gone to go back. I can't revert. There's a part of me that still holds onto my first live interaction with Sal. I just can't get the memory of him— smooth, gentle, kind, and likable— out of my head. No matter how hard I try.
One thing I can be proud of is the amount of petty packed into the fact that I never saved his number in my phone.
Unknown: good. perfect, actually. i brought some poe with me today, a story i think you might like
Some kind of doom-ish feeling washes over me. Like a storm cloud forming above my head. Poison seeping into my pores, infesting my blood. I don't like the way he said that. I don't like it at all. It feels a lot like the time some kid threw up all over me in second grade.
I'll never forget the sickening chill that spread through my body as soon as I realized what happened to me in the middle of educational centers in Nockfell Elementary. This situation feels threateningly similar.
Me: oh cool! so i guess you'll be having a chill reading day? wish it was me :,)
Unknown: not quite. but hey, are you working today?
That storm morphs into a hurricane. And there's twin tornadoes in the background, growing closer and closer to make a torrid, lethal combination. I have to take this in stride. Be smart, y/n. Whatever hell may come, handle it accordingly and do not make mistakes.
Me: ah, no! out of town to visit family :) really, crappy, awkward family get together... yikes...
He'll totally buy that right? I didn't overdo it. It was perfect. Overdoing it would have been an entire paragraph about how much I hate my mom. This is good, this is fine. I'm totally not breaking out into a cold sweat with clammy palms to match.
Oh, God. What if he sent someone to spy on Lexi? What if he hired some murderer off the dark web to take care of me and clean up the mess? I wouldn't put it past him. And this scenario isn't even worst case!
Worst case... I don't even want to think about it. I can't.
Unknown: damn, lex... on the day that i'm finally back in la and you're out of town? :(
Oh, thank God I'm a paranoid chicken shit.
Then again, fuck the fuck off. It's worst case scenario, the thing that I didn't even want to think about. The thing I wouldn't allow to cross my mind.
What do I do. What do I do? I leave work— that's the smartest decision. Naturally, this is the place he once went to and, out of boyish fantasies, he'll probably come back here with some expectation that Lexi will miraculously pop up despite her being in like... Iceland or something, whatever it is I manage to come up with in my next text to him. Which—
Unknown: i'm at the diner rn. was hoping we'd get to hang out this time. when do you get home?
Oh, no.
It's a fucking disaster on top of twenty other disasters. This is what a pregnancy scare must feel like. This must be the equivalent to walking into a room full of snotty, sick toddlers. This is dropping an uncut birthday cake.
I think I'm gonna puke.
I look up from my phone and take in the empty break room surrounding me. The off-white, paint-chipping walls are closing in. I have no escape— this is prison. Trapped in my mind's clawed vices with no way out. Except, my mind's fears have transcended into reality. My worst fear has come true and I had no time to prepare for it. The time is nigh. Ruin is, unfortunately, now.
Think, y/n. It's not so bad. I can just leave through the back door and tell my boss I'm sick again. The door is literally to my left.
But to get back to my apartment, I have to cross in front of the diner that's full of windows. Sal is here, meaning he's paying attention to everything in hopes of finding me... even though I told him I'm not here.I just know he's that kind of romantic, if he even qualifies as such.
He'd spot me in a heartbeat and that can't happen because maybe Vi's mask concealed Lexi who was hidden beneath, but he's about damn near fucked Vi. He knows her body better than she does herself— than I do. Fuck, I have so many different personas I can't even remember that they're all me.
Clusterfuck. That's what this is. A massive clusterfuck, all of my doing.
I'm going to have to bite the bullet. That's my only option. And by bite the bullet, I'm going to fight tooth and nail to keep this bit going. I should just admit the truth, but I'm not humble enough for that, apparently.
My chest begins to ache. It's a slow-to-develop pain that only catches my attention when it hurts a little too much. And then the shallow, short breaths follow. And then the phantom feeling of something lodged in my throat, blocking my airways and filling me with dread.
This is a panic attack, one that is long overdue. One that still can't breach the surface quite yet. I need to make sure I'm home free first— I can weep and be dismayed later. Because the harsh truth is, yes this fucking sucks, but it's not going to kill me. It's just hard for me and my body to truly get a grasp on that.
I swallow down the anxiety that's billowing in my body like linens ominously drying outside a house in the middle of nowhere. I take a couple deep breaths, calming the doubt and fear raging within. My limbs shake a little less, my breathing is better controlled, and my chest doesn't hurt half as much. The pain is still there, but this is bearable. I can do this.
I rifle through my cubby which doesn't give me much to work with. I don't have a change of clothes. I have nothing to hide me, not even a hoodie.
"You... good, y/n?"
I whirl around, hope scraping at the insides of my cranium. Fuck yes. Best lobotomy ever.
I could really cry right now because this is a clear sign that I'm not as alone as I think. Even if it feels like I am, even if my dear coworker Ophelia can't really help me out all that much, she can definitely help me in some way.
I don't have to girl boss everything on my own.
"Lia," I start with, breathless as I practically teleport over to her with the quickness of my panicked steps. "Do you have something I can change into? I can't explain right now but... I would really appreciate your help."
Her big doe eyes take me in curiously, one of her perfectly arched eyebrows raised in question. She bats her long lashes, seemingly processing what I've asked of her before giving me an answer.
"Um, I was planning on going out after my shift tonight? Would a dress work?" She grimaces a bit, probably worried that she won't be able to help me out because Ophelia is just like that.
"That would work fine!" I say excitedly, but think better of it, my hopes crumbling a bit. "But I don't want to take your outfit for the night. I can probably come up with something else."
Lia rolls her eyes lightheartedly, placing a hand on my shoulder. I follow the action, noting her long and sharp blood red nails. I gulp, looking back into her pretty ebony eyes. "Y/n, take what you need. You know Mike can drive me back home to get another outfit! We don't live too far away, and we don't need to be in Anaheim until 9 anyway. Do what you need to do-- you know I'm cheering for you, girl."
I grab onto her hand and hold back the intense admiration infecting my soul. I'm giving Ophelia the most visceral care bear stare I can possibly muster up and she notices, giving me a cute little upside down smile.
"You are an angel," I whisper, "And your future husband is too. Power couple of the heavens, really."
Lia giggles and bends her head down, forcing her pin straight black hair to fall into her face, thus accentuating the really eye-catching red money pieces that match her red nails. I aspire to be this woman. "It's not that serious, Ducks," she says, using my dads nickname for me that she overheard a couple months ago. She thought it was precious, so it stuck. "Let's go get you changed, 'kay?"
Change, I do. But I see where she was concerned about me wearing it too. It's for clubbing, cock-tailing, socializing for sure, but... I can make it work. I've got this. It'll be fine. Thank God I am an avid Doc Martens-wearer. Doc's go with absolutely anything.
Lia has taste too, it's a short, little red dress with spaghetti straps that flares out at the ends. It shows a lot of leg, but not much of anything else. I can't imagine how amazing she must look in this.
"You're super sure that you're okay wearing this?" Lia asks, looking over me. "It looks great on you, I'm inclined to tell you to keep it, honestly."
I scrunch up my face. "No, I'm giving it back to you tomorrow," I laugh gently, using my phone camera to try and get an idea of how I look. I can't see much, which is kind of a blessing because I might hate it and be too afraid to brave LA if I end up not liking it.
"I won't argue with you," Lia sighs, patting my back in a reassuring way. "So do you want to talk about what's going on?"
"Um," I murmur, a shiver running down my spine. I almost forgot why I'm having to do this. It feels like hours have passed, but it's only been five minutes at most. "It's very hard to explain, but I might have to get you or Mike involved, whoever's hosting today." I can't help but grimace as the words leave me, but it's the unfortunate truth that I'll have to talk to one or both of them. I'm ever so slowly hashing out a plan in my head.
Sal is undoubtedly going to ask about Lexi, and what the hell am I supposed to do whenever someone goes, "Lexi? No Lexi has ever worked here." So I have to bite the bullet, again, and stick around to at least inform Mike or Lia about that part of my major, gargantuan fuck up. That also means there's a good chance that Sal will see me, but he'll likely ignore my presence, and then I can slip away quickly.
"Mike is up front and hosting today," Lia says, frowning at me. She's so pretty, like if Marilyn Monroe was alternative. Goth mommy and whatever. No shame on my part.
The chef's booming voice carries into the break room, Lia's name floating along with it. She winces at the sound, flinching in surprise. She gives me a pitiful look, tilting her head almost as if to apologize for having to do her job. Poor little love, she is.
"Will you be able to talk with Mike?" She asks me, heading for the door.
I nod hesitantly. "Yea, I'll get to him. Thank you so much for all your help, Lia. I really appreciate you." I send her my most genuine smile, one that she returns.
"Anytime, y/n! You look beautiful, by the way. Go knock 'em dead, literally or figuratively!"
And she's gone, but she hyped me up in the gentlest way possible. Bless her dark, lovable heart.
I take a breath-- a deep, fortifying, 'ohfuckohfuck' breath that does nothing to calm my soul, but I try to trick myself into believing that it worked... at least somewhat. Then I move over to my work cubby (because we're all still in primary school according to my boss) and grab my old backpack that I bring every day. It's raunchy at best and holding on by a thread. I kept it from my high school days. It's a plain black Jansport with coffee stains on the bottom and questionable white splats that are front and center for everyone to see. I'm pretty sure it's just crusty white paint that I never bothered to peel off, but I won't correct anyone if they guess something else. What's the fun in that, right?
I open the zippers and dig in, working past a random beanie from winter, pads and tampons, and a makeup bag. All the way at the bottom, buried under my other things for protection, is my mask. I put it on then look down at myself one last time.
The flashy red of the dress I'm wearing does not match the deep violet of my mask but not everything can go right, so I'll take my little loss. Things could be worse-- oh wait, they are. Sal Fisher is outside this room. Whoops, forgot things were already devastatingly bad.
I run my fingers over the forehead of my mask, feeling that ache creep into my chest again. I wish things weren't going this way. I wish I was brave enough to go outside and just keep working. Because I'm undoubtedly going to lose my job after today. I'm backing myself into a corner, even risking my finances because of this guy that I'm too scared to face as my real self. I've reached peak pathetic.
My dad must be disappointed to have such an incompetent daughter. No wonder my mother and I don't speak anymore.
I swallow past the uncertainty, the guilt, and the unadulterated fear gnawing at my soul. Then I follow through with my plan by throwing my backpack onto my shoulder and pushing the back door open despite knowing that this is not worth it. It's not worth it at all.
I circle around the outside of the diner, heart rumbling like an earthquake as the putrid scent of garbage wafts into my nose from the dumpster I'm currently passing in front of. The sounds of cars honking, people laughing and chatting idly.
Los Angeles is the people's place. It hosts all necessary components of life, some more than others. Socialization, food. It's a dopamine powerhouse. But when it's me, when I've been living here for over a year and seeing the same things every single day, it's stripped me of all my feel-good chemicals. Especially right now when LA is only bringing me problems and trouble (Sal Fisher).
This doesn't feel real. I can't believe I'm doing this to myself. I can't quite wrap the fact around my head, that I'm about to be in Sal's general vicinity yet again. I thought I had time.
I turn the corner, coming out onto the sidewalk in front of the diner. I don't stop in my stride, eyeing my apartment building that isn't very far from me. A five minute walk. I'm almost home. Almost free. I just have to get inside the diner, unfortunately inform Mike of the tea, and hopefully dodge Sal. So long as I keep my eyes on the host table, I may not even have to see him. I might just be psyching myself out. Everything's going to be just fine!
My heart is in my throat, my limbs jittering nervously as I push the glass door open and look forward, noting the short line of people waiting for seats. Sal isn't one of them, so I assume he's been seated already.
I walk past the people in line, getting a few looks from them. That'd be the mask's fault.
Mike's looking down at his seating chart on the host table, most likely mapping out where someone could go whenever I stop in front of him, placing a hand on the table to discreetly get his attention.
He looks startled for a moment before tilting his head up, brows scrunched together as if to say 'The audacity!' but then he sees me and his eyes widen a bit. And then I'm not sure what his next expression says.
"What the--" he chokes out, "Shit! It's you? Hold on-- wait-- mind-fuck--"
I lift a finger to my lips, eyes wide as I hope he takes the note to shut up. Adrenaline is starting to spike in my veins and if he draws anymore attention to us, especially since my mask is already drawing enough, I'm going to piss myself right here. And sue him for public embarrassment, or whatever that thing is. Public defecation? No, that's public defamation... anyway.
Michael's mouth snaps closed, but he keeps watching me. I watch him. We just watch each other as I forget absolutely everything I had planned.
I swallow, blinking at my friend and coworker. "Mike," I say quietly. He flinches at the sound of his name. "I need you to do something for me and I am sincerely sorry about this but..."
"Yea, Yea, y/n-- um, what should I call you...?" He cuts himself off viciously, slapping a hand over his mouth. At least he cares.
I lean my forearms across the table, settling my weight against the front to relax myself at least a little bit. I'm so tense. I feel eyes on me. I need to get out of here.
"Don't call me that," I say lightheartedly, puffing out a breath. "Just call me Vi. For now." I lick my dry lips. Mike of all people finding out about my identity as VioletViolence is the very least of my worries. "There's a guy in here. He has blue hair, can't miss him. I'm sure you already know who he is. He's looking for a girl named Lexi and he'll probably ask his waiter about her. Just say that Lexi isn't here today, you don't have to answer anything else about her."
"I'm guessing... you're Lexi?" He winces, leaning forward a bit.
"Wow," I say sarcastically. "How did you figure that out?" I send him a little smile then focus on the task at hand yet again. "Anyway, I need you to be his waiter. Please. I'll take your entire shift on Friday. I will do anything." I tilt my head down, peering up at him through my lashes in an attempt to portray how badly I need this.
Mike's brows bunch together again and he mutters, "Yea, of course. Whatever you need. But it's-- he came in with the rest of The Faces. Do you want me to... entertain them too? Do they know about Lexi?"
The world stops turning. Everything pauses, no one's moving anymore and I feel like I'm going to vomit with fear, burst with excitement, and pass out right here from exhaustion. The plan I had is ruined, and I couldn't be more equally devastated and exhilarated about it. Ash is here. Larry's here, Todd too. What the hell is going on?
I blink, the action bringing me back to the present.
"Hey, is that Lia's dress--"
"The Faces are here?" I cut him off, holding a hand out in pause, trying to drill this information into my head. Trying to make it real so I can come up with a new plan.
Michael watches me like I'm stupid, a rueful expression on his boyish face. "Yes. I already said that they're here. Why are you wearing my girlfriend's dress?"
"Because we're fucking on the side and she came all over my work outfit." I watch as he makes his little offended face, and my tongue prods at my cheek as instant regret slaps me in the face. He's trying to help me, I shouldn't be giving him this attitude. "Sorry," I admit. "You know that's not true. I'm just-- I'm on edge."
"That's okay," he says hesitantly. "You know I'm going to get you back for that, anyway."
I pinch my lips together, accepting yet another minor defeat. "Fair." I shrug. "I was going to go back home and leave you to the wolves but... I'd rather risk myself. Ash is my best friend. You won't have to handle them alone now, so yay!" I give him a cheerful grin that I'm really not feeling. I even throw in jazz hands.
Michael runs his tongue over the surface of his teeth, clearly not looking forward to the fiasco I've dragged him into. "Alright," he settles on, sighing as he looks down at his feet while grabbing another menu. "Let's see how you manage to back yourself further into whatever shitty corner you've created. I'm eager."
"I'm sure," I grind out, knocking down all the fear that overtook me on my way here and replacing it with impenetrable, desperate yearning to find my friends. I finally cast my gaze around the diner, quickly zeroing in on the one head of blue hair in this entire building. They're seated at a booth all the way at the back of the restaurant and next to the bar, the one place that's away from most prying eyes. A request of theirs, I'm sure.
But my next question, now that I know everyone's here, what the hell are The Faces doing in Los Angeles? And why wasn't I told?
Ash didn't say a word to me. Do they not want me around? Maybe they don't like me as much as I thought they did. Maybe Ash would rather hang around with other friends than me. And that would make sense because we never see each other, besides Vegas, of course. But just thinking about it makes pain erupt throughout my entire body, a pang in my heart. Especially while watching the back of Ash's head tip down while Larry laughs in front of her. Sal and Larry, I can see them, but Todd and Ash are facing away from me.
Another deep breath.
"I'm going to head over there," I tell Michael, looking over to him again. He's watching me closely, his expression of pity mimicking Lia's from earlier. The sight makes me a little sick.
"Alright," he says gently. "I'm going to be there to take orders soon. I hope everything goes well. Don't be nervous."
I huff out a humorless laugh. "Are you and Ophelia psychic or something? Or is my face just that readable?"
He shrugs, grinning slightly. "I can't see your face, so I guess we're psychic. I'll be in your dreams tonight."
That makes me laugh. It wasn't forced or fake, it was genuine and I need that right now. I think Mike knows that too.
I start taking quick steps over to where The Faces are, nerves slapping at my insides to make me turn around and forget that I ever saw them. I'm attacking myself with my own mind, and my mind is attacking my body in turn. Mental illness is crazy, right? Death by anxiety and whatnot.
But, you know, I'm already here. My job is in purgatory, I'm five steps away from them and Larry has noticed my movement, his head twisting toward me to see who's growing near.
Poor Larry. When he sees me walking toward them, he shakes his head and rubs his eyes like he doesn't believe what he's seeing. He looks at me again, and that's when his eyes start to widen, when his jaw drops. And he doesn't say word, that open mouth just turns into the brightest smile I think I've ever seen.
Seeing his excitement makes my insides flutter about and I feel a little better about actually going over to them. Imagine I get there and they shoo me away? But I can tell that Larry won't. That look on his face screams barely held back hugs.
I gulp, trying to ignore my major cotton mouth. I need water. Or tequila. Something.
I also don't give my brain even a second to psych myself out. When I reach the table, I simply plop myself down beside Ash and act like it's a normal, every day thing for me to do.
All heads turn to me (Larry's never turned away from me to begin with) and then I hear a quiet, uttered, "Fuck" followed by incessant, eardrum bursting squealing in my ear.
Arms. A lot of arms. A ton of squeezing. Lots of kisses all over my mask and face. And all the love makes me think that my sweet Ash had a good reason for not informing me of her visit.
I struggle, but I throw my arms around Ash too, squeezing every little inch of her that I can get. Her sweet, coconut and strawberry scent overwhelms me and I feel so at peace. So calm. Home. Back in Nockfell. Comfortable.
Her hair is in my face and I know she's crying because my bare shoulders are wet, thanks spaghetti strap dress. I don't care though because I'm seeing Ash again much sooner than I imagined I would. I thought it would take us years to have some time together like we did in Las Vegas. And Ash is so emotional, I feel like she's being ripped apart by the sight of me alone-- that's both adrenaline-inducing and terrifying.
This is a nightmare, but a dream come true at the same time. I'm so glad that I was paranoid enough to force myself to tell Mike about the Lexi situation. Things couldn't be any better.
"Ash, fucking let go, man. It's my turn." Larry's voice is right next to me, and then another pair of hands that envelop my waist whole. I'm then yanked out of my best friends arms and spun around to face Larry who hugs me so tight that I have to stand on my tiptoes.
I shut my eyes, grinning as I reach my arms up his back, hugging him the best way I can as he nuzzles his face against my mask. The smell of cigarette smoke and pine trees lingers on his clothes, yet again overwhelming me with familiarity. The smoke is a more recent addition, but he's always had a unique scent to him that's always reminded me of Christmas in a way.
The scruff on his cheeks scratches against my jaw, his skin is warm, his grip tight. I really miss home... and LA is not home. Home is back with all of my friends. I don't want to stay here anymore. I don't want to be where they aren't.
Larry takes a deep breath into my shoulder, likely bathing in my comfort just like I did with him. Then he backs up, holding me at arms length and I look up with tears welling in my eyes no matter how much I wish they weren't there. I hate crying, especially in front of other people, but I'm just so happy. It's like the anxiety I felt while walking over here never existed.
"What the hell are you doing here, Vi!?" Larry exclaims, dragging his hands up my arms to cup my face in his large palms. "I thought you lived in Connecticut?"
I place my hand on top of his, a spark of what I thought was fantastical anxiety rushing through me at the instant fuck up I've just made. Again. Crap. I forgot that Ash told them I live in Connecticut...
"Uh," Ash voices beside us, her tone taking the form of the smartest kid in class who's about to correct a mistake. Todd-coded. "I said she's from Connecticut, not that she still lives there." Good save, Ash. "Word choice is important, Lar! Pay attention!"
Larry's eyes swing between Ash and I before settling on me, stars dancing in his irises. "Wait, so do you live in LA, then?"
I can't help the excited little grin that's slowly climbing onto my face. It's Larry's turn to squeal as he suddenly realizes.
I look back over to Ash, catching Sal's gaze momentarily before I look over at Todd to wave. He waves back at me, a soft and pleased smile on his thin lips.
"So," I say, letting go of Larry whenever he backs away from me. I sit beside Ash again, leaning against her side as she throws an arm around my shoulders. "Why are you guys here?"
Ash hisses, frowning suddenly. I frown back, wary of her reaction. "Crap!" she exclaims, rolling her eyes. "Well, I was going to surprise you and the guys. But I guess you ended up surprising us instead..."
"Oh, so it's not just y/n that we're visiting while we're here? You knew Vi would be here too?" Todd asks, chewing on his bottom lip contemplatively.
Another spark of nervousness. They're here for... fuck, all three sides of me are expected in this situation. This... maybe was not really worth it. I'm erasing all the sides of my corner. Everything's starting to get really small and very tight.
Ash side-eyes me, a discreet little look before she answers Todd. "Yea, but I'm not quite sure where she is in LA. I'm going to have to call her later to get some updates on her whereabouts."
"I could just call her now. I'm super excited to see her, I'm sure she'd love to meet Vi too-- oh, and to tell her why we're here!" Larry says, excitement making him shimmy around in his seat as he pulls out his phone.
My body reacts instantly, tensing up like a cat in shock. Ash jumps too, nearly leaping over the table to stop Larry. "No! She's working!" She yells. It's so loud that you'd think she's trying to flip Larry's phone away from him with sound waves alone. True Stranger Things style.
"Oh...kay..." Larry trails off, pulling his phone closer to him so that Ash can't reach. "It's not that serious. I'll call her later, then. What's your deal?"
I swallow. Her reaction was really too much, but at least she's trying to cover for me. I would've sat there and let Larry call while my phone went off in my pocket.
Ash clears her throat, sitting back now that she threw the scenario into the trash. It was rocky, but her deflection was successful. "I know, just don't bother my girl while she's making money," she says matter-of-factly, holding her head high.
I note the way Sal shakes his head across the table. I haven't acknowledged his presence, nor has he acknowledged mine. It's awkward for the most part, but I think that awkwardness is only stemming from me. He seems to be perfectly in control with his short sleeved, black Iron Maiden shirt that shows off his tatted arms. I guess the LA summer heat was too much for him to wear a hoodie for once.
His electric eyes meet mine, no emotion in the endless depths of his irises. Like he couldn't care less that I'm here, which sounds a lot like him. And still, I fidget in my seat under his gaze. Can't help myself.
The edges of his dagger tattoo peek out from behind his hair, the shape of his Adam's apple clear due to the sun shining in through the window, casting shadows in all the right places. Necklaces are around his neck, some kind of silver chain and and old, really intricate cross necklace hanging right below it. And then his hand comes into view, the one that folded into a fist as a result of my touch just weeks ago in this exact restaurant.
There's something different though as he moves to grab onto the drink in front of him, dragging it closer.
The bottom of his prosthetic lifts as he sips from his straw, but that's when I notice what's different. It's a new tattoo-- Saniderm wrapped around his hand. It looks like... a skeleton hand tattooed onto his own. It's pretty sick and I'm so tired of him having great taste in art. Damn. Now I have a terrible excuse to stare at him some more when I shouldn't look anywhere near him at all.
On the other hand, have I ever mentioned how much of a blessing Michael is?
"Hi, everyone," his cheerful voice effectively distracts me from ogling Sal. I look over to my friend, noting his pink cheeks. Huh. "I'll be taking over as your waiter tonight. Your waitress had to leave," he glances at me as if to tell me that I made a good call by stepping out when I did. That's exactly the moment I realize that we're sitting in my section of the diner. Talk about a close call.
Okay, I should get the hard part over for him right? To thank him. I've got this. "Oh, hey, Mike!" I say, "Long time no see."
Poor Mike looks at me like a deer caught in headlights. "Hey... Vi..." he says quietly. Oh, Michael, please don't crap out on me now... I'm going to have to buy this man a cake for carrying me like this.
I smile at him awkwardly, trying to bypass this horrible excuse of an excuse that he and I are about to do horrible improv for. "So, how's Lexi?" I don't dare look a Sal whenever I say the name, but I do feel a shift in the energy at the table. "It's been weeks since I last saw you guys."
"Lexi doesn't work here anymore," Michael spits out nervously, sweat beginning to build on his forehead. Oh no, don't fucking fumble the bag, Mike!
I give him a look. One that has so many emotions and so many questions, but I just force out a simple, "What?" because what else do I say to that? Things are already beginning to go terribly. But it's okay. I'm a pathological liar at this point, and a catfisher? Maybe? Ha... Cat-FISHER.
I'm going to have a panic attack.
Michael pinches his lips together, red-faced as he glances at Sal. I turn my gaze to Sal too, noticing the way he's eyeing Mike like a hawk.
"Lexi is my girlfriend and she doesn't work here anymore." Michael says, his tone brave and assertive, but his facial expression says an entirely different thing.
Great heavens. Okay, so he's radically screwing everything up but that's okay— I'm a flexible person. He's... doing his best. I can work with this. I hope.
I have this image of him and I duking it out in my head. I have him by the collar, shaking him around like a ragdoll while I scream in his face that he's fucking up the plan. And in my mind he's just taking it because he's playing pure sub right now. I'm not even this submissive-- Michael is straight up breaking the BDSM spectrum.
I shove down my nerves and tilt my head at him. "Okay," I start with, slowly, feeling out what little room I have to work with. "I already knew she was your girlfriend," I say, raising my eyebrows even though he can't see. Saying this feels less incriminating for some reason. But I notice Sal snap his head down to the table. I almost feel bad. "But why doesn't she work here anymore?"
Michael looks off to the side, tapping his fingers against the menus in his arms. "Um, she's... she is..." I narrow my eyes at him. He's not even answering the question. I try to communicate with him through eye contact, bellowing at him to not. Fumble. The. Bag.
He gapes at me like a fish, our intense eye contact freaking him out even more. I sigh to myself. He fumbled whatever bag I'm going on about before he even got to our table.
He finally finds his voice after a second and says, "Lexi is working. At a... sperm... bank."
It takes every little inch of my being not to burst into tears. Holy hell. If anything I'm glad he fucked this up because the sperm bank excuse is hilarious no matter how you look at it. Even better is that it's so ridiculous and random that it's going to distract the entire table from the way he's royally screwing up this conversation.
Ash snorts beside me. Larry chokes on his coke. Todd is silent and so is Sal. Maybe the sperm bank thing will officially scare Sal away from Lexi. Yea-- this could work.
"That's a unique job," I struggle to push out, my voice wavering despite trying to forget what Mike just said. But it's hovering in my mind, like old memes from Vine that still make me cackle to this day. I really wish someone would have caught this entire interaction on video.
Michael glances to Sal again. And that's when I turn to find that the bluenette is glaring at my coworker with his arms crossed over his chest, a dangerous glint in his pretty eyes. Wow. That's a scary look, one that he hasn't even pulled out on me yet.
Mike is gaping again, trying to get words to, you know, word. I try to help him by saying, "I hope she likes it there! That's a big deal." But the words don't register in his mind. I can tell by the look of terror on his face, his gaze still glued to Sally.
My friend takes another second to gather himself, and right as a syllable leaves his lips-- one that he used his one working brain cell to come up with-- Sal interrupts him. He took perfect advantage of Mike's vulnerability.
"I'm not sorry for flirting with your girlfriend."
My eyes squeeze shut as butterflies slap at the lining of my intestines. This is ridiculous and I shouldn't feel flattered. I tilt my head down for a moment, trying to gather my wits. I figured out everything for Michael and I, but I didn't take Sal's response into account. I didn't think he'd have a response to begin with. I never would have thought he'd come up with this either.
"We'll, um," I say hoarsely, clearing my throat to regain my voice, but my heart is flitting about with excitement. I wish Sal never would have spoken. I look up at Mike, sending him a dismissive smile. "We'll order in a little bit. I'm still not sure about what I want. Thanks, Mike."
I've never seen someone scurry away so quickly before in my life.
"Is Lexi the chick you were trying to see over here?" Larry asks as soon as Michael's gone. I bite down on the inside of my cheek, watching as Sal glares at his step-brother. Yikes...
"I'm gonna head to the bathroom," I say, scooting out of the booth before anyone can stop me. I need to not be here right now. Ash is quick to stand up behind me, grabbing onto my hand. I turn, fearful that she's going to stop me, but she just smiles and juts her head forward, signaling me to keep walking.
I hope she doesn't ask me about Lexi. You couldn't even beat this information out of my dead body.
Ash and I take a singular step toward the bathroom, only to get stopped by my least favorite customer. I just want to die at this point. The stress is not worth anything. Not at all.
I've said before that many of the men that come into the diner are assholes of the patriarchy, the ones that tell me to stop talking and make them a sandwich, or comment about women's bodies. The shit that ticks me off beyond belief.
This man in particular smells like mildew and three years of straight sleep and bad breath. He's also not a looker, mind you. And then he's an asshole on top of it? I hate when my boss sends me to his table.
Even worse is watching him eye me after calling out to Ash and I with the words, "How much do you charge?"
My eyes narrow and the boys go quiet behind us. We're close enough for them to hear, especially for Ophelia to hear behind the bar.
She glances up at me, cleaning a glass and frowning.
I look back at the man. I never bothered remembering his name. "Excuse me, sir?" I ask, confused. I don't want to converse with this dickface.
"You're dressed like a whore so you gotta be selling yourself right?" he continues, a humorless chuckle following the grubby words.
I open my mouth then snap it shut, heat taking over my body. I'm embarrassed, really insecure about myself now, and pissed off. He thinks he can just say shit like this to anyone? What a pathetic joke.
Usually I can't do anything about this man since I'm the one serving him, but he doesn't know who I am and I'm not working at the moment. I can reign whatever hell that I want.
But I'm also exceptionally tired. Tired of this horrible job and little pay. Tired of holding up some persona that's already beginning to crash around me. Just tired.
"I'd rather look like a supposed whore than look like I just stepped out of the dumpster, sir. Have a day," I say dismissively. I don't have time for him and I've said my piece. If I go on any further, I'll get kicked out anyway and I've already given my coworkers enough trouble today.
'Have a day' is my favorite thing to say to customers who piss me off because they don't know if I forgot the 'good' or purposefully left it out. It's ominous and vaguely threatening.
Ash and I go to the bathroom and we don't stay there long. Neither of us talk. She just waits for me, like she knew I needed space but that I also needed her companionship. Just a moment away from the mess. Silence. Which is so much more than appreciated, I can't even begin to explain how much I adore my best friend.
She watches me wash my hands through the mirror, her arms crossed over her chest and a content smile on her lips. As we start to walk out, she says, "I'm not sure how long you'll be able to keep up the lie about y/n." and she's right. I'm going to face a dead end soon here. "You're obligated to have a sleepover with me tonight so we can come up with a plan, and so you can answer some major questions I have about you right now. My spidey senses are tingling super hard."
Her hand rubs my back and I nod, smiling thankfully at her. Of course she has questions. My entire presence here is questionable right now.
We resurface next to the bar, but looking up at where our booth is shows that it's empty. I'm about to voice my confusion to Ash, but then I notice Lia running around the bar to get to us.
My eyebrows scrunch together as my coworker stops in front of me, eyes on Ash before they focus on me. She mulls over her thoughts for a moment, gaping just like her boyfriend does. Did the boys do something bad?
"We had to... We kicked Sally Face out," is what she says, shocking both me and Ash.
"What?" Ash asks, startled. "What happened?"
Ophelia blinks at Ash, cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "He, uh, he walked up to that... that guy at the bar. Kicked his stool out from underneath him. Then he asked me for a drink. Malibu and pineapple."
Ash sighs and I blink at Lia. I don't even know what to think. Did Sal do that for me? And to ask for my favorite drink on top of that...
No. It's impossible. There's no way he would. He just did it for the sake of feminism. That feminism that is nonexistent when it comes to me. Yea, he definitely didn't do that to avenge me. And he was probably just in the mood for alcohol and pineapple juice right? He could never remember the one drink I ever brought up around him. There's no way.
"Sal doesn't even drink all that much," Ash hisses. "What the hell is he doing?" She bites down on her thumb nail, free hand on her hip.
I swallow down all the emotions building up in me. There are so many that I don't even know how to distinguish a single one right now. This is too much. This entire day is too much.
"Okay," I whisper to myself. "Thanks, Lia," I say gratefully. "And thank Mike for me, too, please. I'm going to get everyone out of here before-- yea." I nod to myself, but it isn't very reassuring.
Lia grabs my hand. "We didn't call the police because that asshole had it coming, but someone else might have. It's better to go now."
I nod again, taking yet another deep breath before guiding Ash to the front doors of the diner. The boys are standing right outside, no doubt waiting for Ash and I.
I feel very similar to the way I did when Sal ended our shit-uationship. I'm so confused and so hopeless, but hopeful. So pained, but relieved. I don't know how to handle the way I feel. I can't work myself out of this awful situation now because he's here. He's here and his hair is billowing softly in the wind, showing off his tattooed neck. And a cigarette is between his index and middle finger as he looks out at the jam-packed street. And then his boot is stomping out the butt of his cigarette on the ground.
The nail in the coffin is when he bends over to pick up the cigarette butt and throw it into the trashcan right outside the diner. He would be perfect if he wasn't such an emotionless prick.
I want to cry. I want to feel him again. I want to shoot him with a paintball gun one more time. I want to run my fingers over all his tattoos. I want him to shiver in fear and pleasure because of me. I hate him so much that it's become obsessive.
I lick my lips as I come to a top in front of my friends, more notably, right in front of Sal.
He turns away from the trashcan behind him, his shoulder-length hair following his movements. When he notices me, he stops and stares disinterestedly. The action is so forced though that it feels like it's hiding something else. Like he doesn't want me to know what he just did in the diner.
I watch him. My eye contact is a threat, a warning, a question, begging. Everything, I try to show him through my gaze.
And then I nod at him subtly despite myself. Even if it wasn't for me, he put that guy in his place and I think that's something to appreciate. But at the end of the day, he still left me upset and he's an asshole so I can't find it in myself to physically tell him thank you. The nod will do.
I turn my attention to the rest of The Faces. "I can make brunch in my apartment if that works with y'all?"
And that's how I've made another mistake today. That's why The Faces are walking down the streets of Los Angeles, my apartment just two buildings away.
There's so much wrong with this decision I've made. I should have never invited them over. What if dad is home? He shouldn't be-- but still. There's so much that could go wrong.
But the walk is going disturbingly well. Ash and Larry ooh and ahh at the streets of Los Angeles— which are normal to me. But I understand the charm too. I was very fond of LA when I first came here.
We walk into my apartment building, everyone speaking a little quieter as we traipse through Lobby. I don't speak, I just listen. And I take it that Todd and Sal are doing the same.
My apartment building is nothing special. It's boring, it's the lowest end of mainstream you can get. It's like a 90's apartment in Manhattan, but make it modern and LA. To put it short, it's the cheapest Dad and I could find here.
Having The Faces step into my territory feels like a time bomb ticking down the last few seconds. It's scary, and it puts me in a vulnerable position. I don't have much of a choice— I'm the one who thought of this idea. And I feel like I owe it to my friends to make them something to eat after they got kicked out of the diner. Not that it was my fault, but it was my customer's fault. I feel guilty for some unreasonable reason.
There's always risk though, and I run through my list of said risks as we take the elevator to my apartment. Being in someone's living space is daring, considering that family stuff is all around. Photos on the wall, artwork with family name's on them, doctor appointments and reminders on the refrigerator. Everything is risky, risky, risky.
Lucky for me, dad and I still haven't quite settled in yet. It's been a year, but we're also both constantly moving around. Dad is in hotels for weeks on end and I work most days. We unloaded and fixed our necessities, but other than that, our walls are bare and nothing of note is on our refrigerator. I should be fine.
We finally empty out into the hallway that leads to my apartment and I have to swallow down the anxiety rushing through me. Nothing has gone wrong and I can only hope that the last leg of this walk will go well for me. I just want one thing to go right today, just one. That's all I'm asking.
I get to my door, I shakily slide my key into the lock, and I open it and let all my friends in, watching their eyes bounce around the living room. I nearly slam the door shut once everyone is safe and inside.
I got my wish. Thank you to whoever granted me a little bit of peace on this unfortunate day.
"You need to get a new carpet."
It's the second time I've heard him speak today. The raspy, monotonous, alto tone of his makes me pause. He wasn't insulting, the way he said that was just commentary. But his voice alone feels like a declaration of war and all the panic and fear I've been enduring for the past— what? Half hour?— is replaced with some kind of desirous agony. Like I've been waiting for him to just... just speak.
"You have a problem with everything, don't you?" I respond, my voice biting into the stale air of my living room. I should've simply asked why he felt that way, but I have reasons. For example, the shit I've put up with today has me on edge. Another reason is Sal bombarding me on all ends without him even realizing it, then being so tense with all these horrible decisions I'm making. I'm really itching for a fight right now and I know I can get it from him. I can practically feel my eyes dilating with the excitement that's ransacking my body at the mere prospect of an argument.
Sal's head turns over his shoulders, body somewhat rigid. One hand in his pocket, the other with the fresh tattoo resting at his side. His eyes are narrowed, scrutinizing me and no doubt wondering who the hell I think I am.
"There's a giant fucking stain on your black carpet," he snaps, gesturing his tatted hand at the light green splatter that dad fussed me for weeks ago. That time I was watching The Faces' Youtube video and spilled my damn mint chocolate chip ice cream. When this entire thing between Sal and I was started. Because he had to go and judge me without getting to know me first. "Be happy I even mentioned it," he mutters, tone clipped.
"You think I didn't notice?" I laugh humorlessly. I wasn't lying when I said he has a problem with everything. Seriously— he just stepped foot into my home and has something negative to say about it. "And why don't you guess who's fault it is that the carpet is stained, huh?" The words rush past my lips, all hardly held back fury and expectation for the worst.
Sal tilts his head in a way that begs me to try him again, then turns his entire body to me. He shuts his eyes and holds up a hand, pausing before saying, "It surely isn't my fault if that's what you're implying." He even adds a snort at the end.
"Actually," I say cheerily, chin up and head high because it's quite literally all his fault that I dropped my ice cream whenever I heard him talking about me all those weeks ago. "Yea it is. I was sitting right there," I point to the edge of the sofa nearest the stained part of the carpet. "While listening—"
I feel like I've been punched in the stomach, and I did it to myself. Again.
How could I be so stupid? Here I am, openly and happily about to expose my true identity just to make a point. Just to be right. To win. To gain some catharsis from a meaningless argument.
I snap my mouth shut, swallowing over the relentless pounding of my heart. I blink at Sal who's waiting expectantly for me to finish what I was saying. What do I say? How do I save myself?
My palms sweat, my legs quake. Oh, this is so bad. Is this my real downfall? Is this where I break? It's going to happen. I'm going to pass out or have a psychotic break. Maybe I'm going insane— maybe I've been clinically insane for weeks now. At least I could plead not guilty at my murder trial. I've had a lot of murder on my mind today, haven't I?
But there's a knock at the door and bless the heart of whoever is about to punch my door hinges off. Any other situation and I'd be losing my mind over someone knocking so hard, but my savior is behind this hunk of wood.
I let out a shaky breath and tilt my head downwards, pretending like I'm too fed up to continue my argument. It's perfect. The best excuse.
But Sal's eyes burn into me, the scrutinizing, heavy blue trapping me in my own guilt. A narrow waterway hidden behind the confines of his prosthetic, haunting me day and apparently at night too. I find myself stuck, my gaze piercing his and waiting for something that will never come. I don't even know what that something is.
"Never mind," I grunt, spinning on my heels and taking a singular step toward my door.
I twist the knob, relieved by the silence behind me. No one cares enough to ask what that was about. I escaped... somehow.
And then I swing the door open, gaze up at the last person I expected to see, hear a resounding and excited, "Bitch!" and intellectually (smartest decision I've ever made) slam the door back in their face.
Oh no. Oh no, oh fuck.
I forgot.
____________
A/N:::::: 50K is such a dream come true and i really wish i could find more words to explain how excited and whole i feel. when i first started writing at 13, i was also reading on wattpad and fanfiction.com. I saw all these writers getting so many views and comments about their works, and i wondered if that would be me some day. i worked hard for the first couple years of my writing career and my only reader was my lovely sister (thank you amititty) and i realized that i needed to do something different. i started practicing more, and then i got into fanfiction rather than just fiction. and that's when something changed. i'll never forget the day when maybe today got 1k views-- i cried and wept like a baby for HOURS because it meant the entire world to me. little 18 year old ryver had no fucking clue that we'd get this far. that 1k on my trial book would turn into 50k on the next. i'm in tears typing this right now, in disbelief. every single one of you are my reason for writing, for brainstorming, for getting through my day... i consider you guys in everything i do. all the love in this world-- every ounce of affection, of adoration, of admiration-- does not compare to how special all of you are to me. you are all so dear to me, my friends and penpals that keep me going and remind me that the world isn't all bad, that not everyone is bad. so thank you for following me down this road and i hope we can continue like this. i wish we could all stay this way forever! but maybe, just maybe, i'll get to sign published copies of my books for you guys someday. get to follow through on my dream to hug all of you. there's never a way to tell what the future holds, but i believe it's pretty bright. thank you. i love you all with all the working neurons in my brain and numerous blood cells in my body <333
so about this chapter-- i have been looking forward to it since the very first chapter of this story. a lot of things have changed since then, including the chapter, but i still think the contents are a nice surprise and fucking HILARIOUS >.< i just hope you guys like it too! it was kind of hard to get out because i had all these ideas and images and feelings that i desperately needed to portray perfectly, but some things are just unable to be captured by words. my goal was to get as much as i was feeling onto paper (or computer?), so i hope you guys feel all the fear, desperation, and admiration going on! i deleted, retyped, and deleted again so many scenes and parts of this. and jesus christ this is an exceptionally long author's note MY BAD
anyway, as always, you guys own my heart and i love you to infinity and beyond!! i'll link pictures of y/n's red dress and sal's tattoo below <3
p.s. i have an announcement coming soon! nothing big, but i am trying something new so stay turned :3
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hyunnieshannie · 8 months
Text
Walking On Glass
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⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅Master List⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅
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I : Yang fucking Jeongin.
♥: Yang Jeongin x AFAB Reader ★: The author is prone to adding tags as they go, Mentions heavily of death, Mentions of Murder, Anxiety, Past Trauma, and Nightmares -- It's a dark fic.
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“There is no exquisite beauty… without some strangeness in the proportion” -Edgar Allan Poe, Ligeia, 1838
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The piercing sound of your alarm jolts you awake, another day passed you by yesterday and now a new one calls out to you. You can’t help but groan, at the idea of having to leave the comfort and warmth of your bed. Reluctantly and with a heavy sigh you finally muster the energy to get up and drag yourself through the apartment, still half-asleep. Gathering your things, you prepare yourself physically and mentally for the day ahead. 
 Your walk to the bus stop was rather uneventful, with cars whizzing past you, and the pedestrians hurrying along in their daily rush to work. You nod in appreciation to the bus driver as you step onto his bus, immediately drowning yourself out from the world by placing your headphones on, in hopes to avoid any sort of conversation. 
A couple of stops pass, and just as you settle into your music-induced bubble, May boards the bus in a rush, her bag half-open in her hands. Spotting you, she waves frantically and quickly pays her fare. Without delay, she darts towards the seat next to you, yanks one of your earphones out, and places it in her ear, as if inviting herself into your private world.
Surprised by May's sudden intrusion, you offer her a half-hearted smile, unsure of how to react. She always had an unpredictable energy about her, and you knew resisting her enthusiastic company was often futile.
“How’d I know you’d be listening to this song?” She laughs,
“Woke up late again?” You sigh.
May chuckles and tosses her hair playfully, her confident demeanour shining through. "Oh, you have no idea! Looking this good takes some serious effort," she teases 
“If only you’d put as much effort into your studies as you do your looks; you’d be unstoppable.” You smile back at her as she sits down.
“Not everyone can be like you, Y/N. I can’t be pretty and smart, that's too much work!” She giggles, as she pulls out a hair brush and begins to tie her hair back into a loose ponytail. 
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
As you arrive at the school May turns to you and says, “I hear we have a new student coming in today; I hope he’s nice.” 
He of course it's another boy, another distraction for her. 
“Great.” You sigh. 
You make your way slowly to your morning lecture, quickly finding your spot as May turns around in her seat to face you as everyone else files in, 
“He’ll probably end up falling madly in love with me an-”
“Madly in love with you?” Seungmin scoffs as he sits beside May. “I got a look at him, and you’re totally not his type.”
“HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT,” May’s flustered face says it all, she doesn’t want to be his type anyways Seungmin. 
“Trust me, you’re not his type. He looks like he’s dropped out like five times- actually, honestly, he kinda looks like the type to shoot up the-” 
“Not funny Seungmin.” You sigh, “School shootings are an actual problem, and people who do those kinds of things are mentally ill. You can’t just go and label someone you don’t know as someone who would do something like that, just because of his appearance.” 
“My bad little miss ‘I’m going to study murderers for fun’, All I’m saying is he’s the type to want to be alone. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was some creep though. He has these like-” leave it to Seungmin to remind you of your goals in the most condescending way. You love your best friend you truly do, but at times you wonder if he truly understands why you set the goals you have. Not that he would ever fully get it. Not that anyone in the room would truly ever understand your fascination with the inner workings of the mind of a killer.
“ALRIGHT CLASS SETTLE DOWN.” Professor Wade says as he walks in, adjusting his glasses and placing his books on the podium at the front of the class, “Today as you’ve all heard we have a new student. Please come in and introduce yourself to the class.” he gestures for the student to come in from the hall. 
“My name is Yang Jeongin.” He says coldly as he stares toward the back of the class. “I transferred here from another country. That’s all you need to know about me.” Your professor stares blankly at him. Seungmin was right though, the guy is offputting. Sharp brown eyes, and long black hair. Dressed in all black, and topped off with a dead look in his eyes, anyone would think he was some ‘weirdo’ - a loner. 
“Alright, now why don't you go and sit beside Y/N.” Jeongin smiles at the teacher and makes his way up the lecture hall stairs to the seat next to yours. 
“Hi, I’m May!” May whispers excitedly to him, 
“Don’t talk to me.” He says looking annoyed as he finds his pen. May looks at him with a confused expression, she reaches for her phone and sends a text to your group chat.
Jeez, what's wrong with the new guy? He was so mean… she pouts. Seungmin put his hand on her shoulder and laughs
“I told you, you aren’t his type” He whispers, May turns to him and lightly punches him, 
“SHUT UP!” she yells, the silent class looks towards her, her face turns a bright shade of red from embarrassment “Sorry.” 
You study the boy next to you as your professor recaps the last lesson. As you noticed earlier, Jeongin wears all black. He’s got long black hair, but you can see the glint of silver jewelry shining through it. Piercings. He wears a silver chain around his neck, but the pendant is hidden under his shirt. Silver rings, and black boots. Sharp eyes that stare coldly towards the front of the room. He’s pretty but rude. Arrogance, radiating off of him. Does he think he’s too good to be here? 
“Staring is rude, if you want something- ask now or leave me alone.” he deadpans, looking at you as if he was looking through you. Almost as if he was reading your mind, “Whatever it is your brain is thinking about me, forget it. Whatever assumption you’re making about me is wrong.”
“I- was just admiring your outfit” you mutter, bringing your eyes back to your notes. 
“Don’t lie to me either. I can see through that shit. You’ll do better by being honest with me.” he slowly places his pen down and shifts so that he’s leaning closer to you, “Listen. I don’t care about whatever your first-year psych brain is attempting to say about me, I’m not your patient. So stop trying to analyze me.” he turns away from you and continues on taking notes. Whatever issue Yang Jeongin has, you want nothing to do with it. You can only hope the semester passes by quickly, and that you won’t have to ever interact with the person beside you.  
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
After a few excruciating hours of listening to Professor Wade go on about the psychological effects of trauma you’re finally released from prison. “Let's go to the cafe to study today.” You say with a smile, Seungmin nods in agreement and May follows along. You enjoy going to the cafe after classes, the warm evening breeze and the smell of fresh coffee is relaxing after class and the cozy environment of the cafe provided the perfect atmosphere to study in. Seungmin heads towards your usual booth, with May tailing behind him as you go to make your coffee orders. 
“One large Strawberry coconut refresher, one Large iced americano, and one Caramel Macchiato with extra caramel please” You smile at the cashier who punches in your order, 
“Three drinks for one person? Are you that thirsty?” A voice says from behind you, you turn around and look up at  Yang fucking Jeongin. 
“I'm here with May and Seungmin actually,” you smile, it was better to be civil than to give him the actual expression your brain so desperately wanted to give. He looks down at you seriously.
“Hm. Excuse me, could you add a second large americano please.” the cashier nods as he steps in front of you and pays for the order, he was so rude to May and now he’s paying for our drinks. What’s with him? “I’ll help you take these to your friends.” he picks up the Americanos and looks to you to guide him to your spot.
“Would you like to sit and study with us?” you ask with an awkward smile,
“Sure.” you walk up the steps to your booth where Seungmin sat watching May take selfies. You hand May her strawberry drink, and Seungmin his caramel drink, then slide into your spot on the opposite side of them. Jeongin sits next to you and places your coffee by you; May makes a confused face and looks back at her textbook. 
“He paid for our drinks so I asked if he wanted to study with us. I hope you don't mind.” You kick Seungmin  lightly under the table and force a smile at him notifying him to get May to cooperate 
“Oh. OH No we don't mind at all right May?” He smiles awkwardly and May only let out a huff. You spent the rest of the evening studying and joking amongst each other, though Jeongin stayed silent for most of it, only ever talking when it came to studying. Most of the time it felt less like he was studying the curriculum and more like he was studying the group the entire time, by the end of the night you could feel he was bored of your company. 
“I should head out guys, I have things to do around the house,” You say as you begin packing up your books, 
“Your apartment is in pristine condition, what could you possibly have to do?” Seungmin laughs 
“Tidying mainly” you sigh, “Chores don't get done themself you know” You let out a small sigh, 
“Chores? You live alone and you give yourself chores?” Seungmin looks at May and laughs at the confused look on her face “What I'm serious! If I lived alone I’d be free and live as I wanted!” 
“That’s why we always go to Y/N’s place. I can't imagine what your room looks like.” Seungmin laughs, Mays's face burns red, as she looks down to hide her clear embarrassment.
“Shut up.” Seungmin you idiot.
“I should head out as well.” Jeongin says abruptly, “Thanks for letting me stay.” He gets up, grabs his things and walks out. 
“He’s so strange,” May says, as you all get up to leave. Soon after you say your goodbyes and head out. 
The bus ride back to your apartment was quiet and short. Your brain was doing its best to wrap around something you didn’t quite know. A feeling you’d never had before. Some sort of familiarity but from what? You wouldn’t be able to tell. 
After a hot shower, You sit yourself on your couch and turn on the tv. “I should eat,” you mumble to myself, you walk to the kitchen as the news plays on the screen in your living room, 
“Reports from [your city]’s 11th ward state another young woman has been murdered,” the tv blares, “The woman was found in her home with a gunshot wound to the chest, [Your city] police say they have no witnesses and no leads.” The newscaster reads out,
Another one. This is starting to get closer to home too. It makes me sick to my stomach. You close your fridge. I'm not even hungry anymore. 
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Tags: @chanlixiiee @amalieworldidk @jaebaebaegot7 @maeleelee @iadorethemskz @maenijw @hangin-out-with-the-street-rats @jinniespuppy @painstakingly-juno @lethallyprotected @elizalabs3 @jisungsbff01 @seungminslittlepup @lieghscloud @foxinnie8 @scarletbedlam @kpoppin-to-the-beat @stay-berry @bbymatz @kurxxmi
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cloudwhisper23 · 5 months
Note
Trick or treat ✨ฅ(•ㅅ•❀)ฅ
Depends on your interpretation of a treat, Pix. You get an excerpt.
The new school was interesting, at least in Chris’ opinion. Sure, people still gawked at his scar all the time, but it was so much better than where he was before. His English teacher immediately assigned reading partners, explaining that discussing the readings was just as important as drawing conclusions individually.
Chris glanced at his reading partner with disinterest. Her name was Millie Fitzsimmons, and she did not speak sign language. Her last name reminded him of Jeremy, which was the only reason he bothered to take an interest in her at all.
She was staring right back at him, seeming very interested in his dyed hair and scarred face. Chris didn’t take it personally. He did look interesting to an outside observer. His hair hadn’t really grown back yet either.
Millie leaned toward him as she spoke, “So, Chris. What types of books do you like to read?”
Chris tapped his pencil against his notebook for a moment, considering her question. His mother’s house had a wider selection of novels, and since she was gone all the time – albeit seeming more apologetic than his father or sister had been – he was allowed full access to her bookshelves.
Chris wondered if she was the reason his father’s house had absolutely no books or interesting material. It explained a lot, especially after he’d found his own name scribbled in the front cover of several books. He determined that they were definitely above his age-range when he’d originally read them, probably explaining his nightmares.
Finally, he remembered that Millie was waiting for a response. He shrugged, writing, “A bit of everything, to be honest. I prefer short stories to anything else.”
He wished he could explain better. That he loved seeing how writers wrote such wonderful stories without needing a whole book or even a series to capture it all.
While Millie skimmed the words he’d written, Chris quickly added, “Poe’s my favorite author though.”
“The Cask of Amontillado” was Chris’ favorite story to read since the Bite. The implied betrayal and potential for the narrator’s guilt at having killed Fortunato was all too familiar to Chris.
“Edgar Allan Poe is your favorite author?” Millie raised an eyebrow, mildly impressed. “What’s your favorite work by him?”
Chris stared at her for a moment. Should he be completely honest? Truth be told, no one had tried to hold a conversation with him this long before. He gave a so-so gesture before writing, “If I have to pick one, I’d say ‘The Cask of Amontillado.’ What about you?”
She hummed for a moment. “I’d say… ‘Annabel Lee.’ The love shared between her and the speaker transcends heaven and hell, Chris. Isn’t that amazing?”
Chris shrugged. He found the poem depressing, truth be told. He couldn’t even imagine understanding what it could feel like to care for someone like that, only to lose them to others’ jealousy. But Jeremy would, a voice muttered in the back of his mind. He frowned slightly as that came up. It was private information, and whomever Jeremy chose to be with was none of his business.
Millie was carefully watching his expression, and she frowned back at him. “Do you hate romance or something?”
Chris shook his head. He wrote, “I just don’t get it.”
“Huh. Maybe you should read more,” Millie said, patting him gently on the shoulder as the bell rang for the end of class.
He decided he didn’t really like Millie, after that moment. Maybe it was something he should’ve blamed the Bite for instead of her overwhelming emotional attachment to a piece of poetry, but really. Did people actually develop obsessions with other people’s relationships?
Unfortunately, the rest of his morning didn’t go very well, and he found himself stuck eating lunch with Millie that day. And the next day, and the next day.
He didn’t understand how the entire school just decided they weren’t worth the effort of getting to know, and he expressed it in his letters to Fritz. Fritz would write back, saying the social circles must’ve closed before he was ready for it.
Chris always scowled after he read that. So eventually, he gave up, instead asking Fritz how Susie was doing. Funnily enough, his responses to that were much lighter and more cheerful. Fritz had succeeded in getting her to spend more time with him at lunch, and apparently, they ate together every day.
Fritz talked about how much she loved baking and how cool she found his ability to run. Fritz was excited about his friendship with Susie, and Chris was certain he wanted to push it further. If he’d had any advice for Fritz, he’d tell him to slow down and make sure they were close enough that their friendship could handle it if things went downhill. But Fritz was his best friend, so he just pretended to be happy for him.
The next week, he decided to be nicer to Millie about her whole thing with romance. “So,” he wrote in his notebook during lunch, something Millie never ate. “I’ve attempted to figure out what you mean by the transcending romance, and I just don’t get it.”
Millie frowned as he started eating. “Well,” she said with severe emphasis, “I prefer the stories where they’re willing to die for each other. When one dies for the other, you really see how things are. Like, depending on how they grieve, you can tell whether they actually loved each other, or if something was amiss.”
Chris considered that for a moment. “So if they don’t mourn properly, they don’t love each other?”
“Exactly.” Millie’s frown faded. “See, you kind of get it.”
Chris frowned. “Well, if that’s how it works, then my family probably would prefer if I was dead.”
Millie stiffened. “What?”
Chris shrugged. “I don’t mean my mom. I just mean that my dad and my sister probably couldn’t care less if I was alive. So I left to live with my mom.”
“Oh.” Millie blinked at him. “I thought you meant they’d try to kill you or something.”
“Well, someone actually did do that too,” Chris wrote. “But it was an accident.”
“You’re a strange guy, Chris.”
Chris just shrugged. He didn’t really care either way what she thought. Pointedly taking a bite of his sandwich, Chris successfully ended the conversation.
“Got any plans for winter break?” Millie asked him a few days later.
Chris considered the question for a moment, before shaking his head. “Fritz wants me to come visit, but I don’t particularly feel like going back there.”
Especially since Fritz was talking about all the kids who’d gone missing. Each time it happened, Fritz sent a letter dedicated to all the information he knew about the kid who’d gone missing. Every time, Chris could tell right away, and he’d put it in his desk, unread. Fritz wasn’t sending those for a response anyway. It was just a way to cope, or so Chris believed.
He sent letters back asking about school and Fritz’s relationship with Susie. Fritz constantly shot back encouragement to come visit and see for himself, but Chris didn’t think he was ready to go back.
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cryingabtab · 5 months
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Save Me A Spark - Part 14
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Warnings: Angst, Crying, Cursing
Pairing: Austin Butler x Cassie Hale (OC)
Word Count: 1070
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“Believe nothing you hear, and only one half of that you see.” ~ Edgar Allan Poe
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Austin had to fight the urge to throw his phone across the room after Rory had hung up on him. He opted to set it down next to him while he curled into a ball and sobbed into his knees. Had he really been given wrong information? Did Rory mean it when she said that Cassie loves him? That Cassie wasn’t just using him? That’s not what he had been told three days prior during an emergency meeting that his manager had called. 
~3 days earlier~
Austin walked down the hallway to his manager’s office with a pep in his step. He knew he should probably be feeling anxious about this emergency meeting, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was happy. He missed Cassie, of course, but he loved that he got to text and call her. He was excited to get back and see her. 
Upon opening the office door, all of his previous pep dissipated in an instant. There, talking to his manager, was his ex girlfriend, Claire. They both turned to look at him. “Austin,” his manager addressed him. “Have a seat.”
Austin hesitantly sat down in the chair next to Claire. “What’s this about? Why is she here?” 
His manager sighed. “She has brought something to my attention that I think you should know about,” she began. “That girl you’ve been seeing? She’s using you.” 
Austin’s face scrunched up, “What? That’s absurd.” 
“The floor is yours,” his manager said to Claire. 
Claire nodded before turning in her chair to face Austin. “We know she’s not famous. Of course, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. However, in this case, it is. She’s trying to get famous. You’re all part of her plan.” 
Austin scoffed, “How could you possibly assume something like that? You don’t know her.”
Claire nodded. “You’re right. I don’t know her. But I can tell she doesn’t care about you. She never talks about you and the only thing she’s ever posted of you is a picture with her band on her band’s account. I also did some digging and found out that she and the guy at the recording studio she uses are a thing.”
Austin’s face dropped, “What?”
“Yeah, on her personal Instagram account there’s pictures of the two of them together,” she pulled her phone out to show him. “See, she’s kissing his cheek here, they’re hugging in this one, and the caption on this one says ‘I love you Matty’. It doesn’t look good for her.”
For some reason, that sold Austin. He went completely silent as he tried to hold back tears. 
His manager spoke up again. “I’m so sorry, Austin.”
Austin didn’t respond to her. 
“Austin, I care about you. I still love you,” Claire said softly. “We can get you through this. She’s not worth it.”
~Present Time~
Austin knew he had to find out the truth. And there was only one person that he could talk to in order to get it. 
That person was Cassie.
He stood up and walked to the bathroom, blowing his nose before splashing cool water on his face in an attempt to calm down. He wanted to get as much out of this conversation as he possibly could, and he couldn’t do that if he was bawling his eyes out and hyperventilating. It took him around an hour to finally calm down enough to even pick up the phone. 
Austin pressed Cassie’s contact and his thumb hovered over the call button. He sucked in a deep breath and pressed it, letting out a long, shaky exhale as he brought the phone to his ear. He listened as the phone rang…and rang…and rang. She didn’t pick up. Instead, he got her voicemail. “This is Cassie, leave a message.” 
He cursed under his breath and hung up the phone, quickly calling her number once more as he began to pace along the floor, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he listened to the daunting ring of the phone. After the fourth ring, he heard a trembling sigh, followed by a sweet, but sad, voice. “Hello?” 
“Cassie,” Austin breathed. “I-I’m so sorry.” 
There was a long pause on the other end. “Look,” Cassie said, voice pinched and small. “If you didn’t want me, you could’ve just said so.” Quick, shaky breaths could be heard from her line. It broke Austin’s heart. 
“No, no, no, please don’t cry,” his panic was evident in his voice. “I’m so sorry, Cass. That’s not the case. Please. Hear me out.”
“You have three minutes before I hang up,” she sniffled. 
With a quick sigh of relief and thank you, Austin got to work explaining everything. He was able to explain it all with a minute to spare. 
Cassie sighed and he could hear her soft sniffles. “That’s fucked up,” she mumbled. “You should have just talked to me. I would’ve told you that it was all bullshit. And by the way, Matty is just one of my best friends, and probably the band’s biggest supporter. He’s done a lot for us. All of us have pictures and posts with him just like I do. Plus, I’m pretty sure he’s had the hots for Hazel for like…ever.”
“I-I’m sorry. I know, I should’ve talked to you first. I-“ Ausrin was interrupted. 
“I wasn’t done,” Cassie said coldly, a sudden change from her previous upset. “You need to learn to think for yourself. Don’t believe everything you see. Don’t believe everything you hear. I cannot forgive you. And I sure as hell can’t trust you.” 
Austin began to tear up once more, “Cass, please,” he whispered. “Let me make up for this.”
“If you want to make this up to me,” she started, venom in her voice. “You’ll stay the fuck away from me. Goodbye Austin.” She hung up the phone with a quickness. 
“Cassie? Cass?” Austin called frantically into the phone. He pulled it from his ear and realized she had indeed hung up. He sat down on the floor and looked up at the ceiling, tears streaming down his cheeks before he could even begin to realize he was crying. 
He needed to make this up to her. He needed her in his life. He couldn’t let her go. And he needed a plan.
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thatsbelievable · 3 months
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Thranduil and Josie Pt. 152- Break Into My heart
Summary: Raven gets poetic. She receives a terrifying vision. The Elvenking is back to his womanizing ways to ease his mental anguish. Two Kings share wine and words. Thranduil and Tauriel converse which ends on a sour note. Narcisse has a surprise for Jo, Her kind words eat at his conscious to the point of a breakdown. The warlock admits something.
*Warnings* strong language, angst, smut,
Stories Stories Stories Masterlist
Raven paced around the elven chambers in solitaire that she had to share with Tauriel, fretting about what the Elvenking was going to make the she-elf do to her unborn child.
Would Tauriel really go through with it? Could she go through with it? It was no secret that the elleth didn't care for Raven one bit, but she still didn't seem like one who had a heart to do such a malicious act, especially after how she offered extra care for Raven's wounds in Rivendell when she didn't have to.
Surely, Thranduil was testing the loyalty of his new captain of the guard and that's what worried Raven even more, because she knew how desperate Tauriel was to remain in Mirkwood. Either way, Raven vowed she would never let it happen and would find a way to escape, even if it meant facing the dealers, or even worse...Jareth.
Raven sat down Indian style on the bed with her small bag of belongings and beg and digging through it for a particular book to read in hopes of calming her restless mind. It was one of her favorites by Edgar Allan Poe because it consisted of his complete poetry. She then did what she always did, closed her eyes and opened it to see what message she would receive this time.
As she opened her eyes, she began to read aloud.
"A Dream Within a Dream...
Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, thus much let me avow. You are not wrong, who deem that my days have been a dream; yet if hope has flown away in a night or in a day, in a vision or in none, is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar of a surf tormented shore and I hold within my hand, grains of the golden sand. How few, yet how they creep through my fingers to the deep while I weep, while I weep, Oh god! Can I not grasp them with a tighter clasp? Oh god! Can I not save one from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream?"
"Hope...what hope do I have?" Raven asked herself as a single tear strolled down her cheek.
Oddly in that moment, she thought of Jace. Why?? He abandoned her. Could she really blame him though? He hardly knew her and taking on the Elvenking could mean a death sentence for him. Jace had his own issues to deal with, why should he give damn about what happens to her? Why should anyone give a damn about her?
She closed the book with a sigh, for the message only made her feel worse. As she put it away, the glint of Jareth's citrine ring flashed in her face from the candlelight gleaming down inside the bag.
With all the chaos, Raven had forgot she even had it and the question came to light again as to how that slimy ghoul Gollum had gotten ahold of it in the first place? The only thing she could some up with was that the little thief must have stolen it off of Jareth's finger while the goblin king was disabled from Thranduil's light, for she couldn't see Jareth giving it to him for any reason. It was a part of Jareth's power and he would certainly come to reclaim it...and her.
Raven pulled it out, fondling it as she looked it over in more detail. It appeared to just be some ordinary antique but all who knew of it, knew it was anything but ordinary. It wasn't necessarily evil though, it just depended on who's finger it was placed upon. Of course, Raven didn't have the slightest clue how to bring it's magic out, so she did something quite stupid out of curiosity, and slid it upon her finger.
As she gazed upon her own reflection in the golden topaz, something began to happen. Something terrible.
Raven became frozen in some trance like state as her eyes glazed over in a white film...and then she heard him. Jareth.
"Curiosity killed the cat. I knew you were weak and foolish girl."
Her hand shook profusely as his image then appeared inside the stone, creeping towards her in a sinister, yet strangely sexy way.
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"You have betrayed me for the last time my love. Did you honestly believe you could escape me? Or that I would simply forget your lying vows of love for me? Those same vows of love that created the life inside of you? You belong to me Raven. You will always belong to me. I will reclaim you, my ring and my child and you will rue the day you ever crossed me. There's nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The Elvenking will face my wrath as well. He cannot protect you. I am your King. You will bow before me and take your place at my side for eternity. I am coming. Time...is short."
All that could then be seen was a close up of Jareth's face as he devilishly laughed, and then he vanished as Tauriel walked in.
"He...he...he...kn..knows...he knows about the baby." Raven stammered in fear after she came back to reality.
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"Is that what I think it is??? On your finger???" Tauriel asked with beaming eyes and came towards her.
"Stay away from me you baby killing bitch!" Raven shouted and sprung off the bed, rushing backwards with great force right into the stone wall.
Down she slid to her butt, dazed and confused as she repeatably mumbled before she passed out.
"All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream. All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream. All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream."
After viewing you through your moonstone for the second time in Haldir's arms, Thranduil, or more likely the Elvenking, enjoyed some pleasure of his own on the cool December day in his warm outdoor pool. Accompanying him was one of his elleth servants. She had platinum strands like his, although he preferred fiery hair...fiery hair that belonged to you. Because of that annoyance, he purposely chose her for a distraction and to fuck out the relentless ache in his cock that happened every time you invaded his thoughts and he had high hopes it would stop him from envisioning you while doing so.
"My lord...where shall you have me?" the pale blue eyed elf meekly asked.
The Elvenking merely side eyed her, not wanting to see her face.
"There...on the steps. Lean over them."
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The young she elf did as she was commanded, laying her chest onto the cold wet stone with the crack of her bottom just barely above the clear blue water.
As he approached her, cock in hand, he noticed she was laying on her cheek to where he could see the side of her unwanted face.
"Face forward."
She turned to glance at him. "My lord, I...I am?"
"Dolth- cín níf!!!" (Conceal your face) he barked.
She squeaked and swiftly placed her forehead down on top of her hands.
"This is not for your pleasure, but for mine. If you wish to receive any, know that I will not wait."
'Y..yes my..lord." she timidly replied as she waited for the sharp sting of his girth.
Thranduil spread her entrance open with his fingers and guided the head of his swollen cock inside with his other, then he released his hand, grabbed her hips and thrust into her.
She squealed into her hands as he began pounding against her, so hard that the water sloshed about in a frenzy to the beat of smacking skin.
His idea failed him miserably as there you were, red hair and all, before him, being fucked like a dog. But the memory he was seeing was nothing of the sort, for in it, he was making love to you, soft, slow and sweet in his chamber's pool. The candlelight danced over your wet back as you moaned and panted for him, immediately bringing him to climax.
Thranduil's eyes closed hard and his mouth hung open as he sped up, ignoring the elleth's orgasmic mewls and only hearing yours. He swiftly pulled out, groaning and stroking his way through his release as he expelled his cum into the water, while in his mind, he secretly called your name.
"Glenn-hi." (Go now) he commanded to the blonde elf. "And do not return to my sight, this day or any day."
She glanced at him in confusion. "My...lord??"
Thranduil's eyes rolled as he pursed his lips. "It would seem I have made the right choice to remove you from my kingdom, for your dense mind is of no use here, nor is your cunt of any more use to me."
He swayed his hand in the air behind him for her to exit as he waded to the other side of the pool to climb out.
After Thranduil relaxed in the remaining sunlight for a moment with his wine, he then slipped back into his attire and headed to the shipping docks in annoyance, as he saw Bard's late barge arriving.
"You are late with the barrels. Are there no means of time in Lake Town?" Thranduil rudely said in his greeting to the captain of the archers and King of Dale.
"King Thranduil. Apologies. I had a setback with some orcs along the way. It is good to see you alive and well."
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"It is good to know your vision is still in tact. Unload, reload and be on your way to Dorwinion. I expect extra allowance of time will be given for your next delivery, for tardiness is not acceptable as it may have been while I was...away, but as your properly functioning eyes have witnessed, I have returned and all operations will remain under my rule as they were."
Bard had heard of the trauma inflicted upon the King and was even warned of his changed behavior, but knowing Thranduil as well as he did, he really didn't see any difference in him....yet, for Thranduil's attitude was completely typical. Even so, Bard knew he could hold his own against the Elvenking, who was also his friend.
"Will that include a shared glass of the wine before my departure like always? I have missed my old friend and was very saddened to believe you had passed on."
Thranduil's eyes narrowed as he peered down at the smiling bowman.
"Very well. There are things you need to be aware of before entering Dorwinion. Be quick and join me in the docking tent."
Bard nodded with a bow and began his duties while Thranduil then headed off to patiently wait.
Fifteen minutes later, Bard entered the tent to find the King in his chair, sipping his wine and seemingly lost in thought, for his arrival went unnoticed.
"King Thranduil? I have completed my tasks."
Thranduil did as he had always done and went to the wine table to pour the other King a drink.
"I am in need of more ale in addition to the usual order from Lord Narcisse for an upcoming celebration."
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"As you wish. Has your queen returned? I would like to offer my congratulations on the birth of the Princess."
"You may offer them to me, for my daughter was not born of immaculate conception." Thranduil quipped and returned to his chair.
"Of course. Congratulations King Thranduil. I was only hoping to offer them to her in person and hopefully meet the child."
"It would seem you will meet her before I am able to do so. Josephine remains in Dorwinion with my daughter. Legolas is on his way there to return them to me."
"That is good news. I am sure it will be a most happy reunion and celebration that you have planned. Shall I relay any messages to the Queen?"
The Elvenking's jaw was clenching, for he could not stand to continue hearing Bard address you as his Queen, but he knew he must carry on with his charade that you and he would be one happy little family again. He could not risk you knowing the truth as it would delay his plans even further by you possibly refusing to come back and he knew Legolas would not take Leean from you, nor would you allow him to.
"All that you know of my existence is to remain unknown. Although you may arrive before Legolas, he will inform her per my instructions."
"The Queen does not know you are alive?"
"Ahh, I see your brain is working as well as your eyes."
"Thranduil...may I ask why you would not wish for her to know her King is alive as soon as possible? I cannot imagine the suffering she has endured."
"You may not! What concern is my business of yours? You will do as I have ordered or I can and will easily find a replacement for your duties here."
Now Bard knew something was amiss just like he was warned of. Thranduil was referring to his daughter as only his and seemed to have no concern for you. The Thranduil he knew, that loved you beyond the moon and the stars, would not be sitting here drinking wine as if it were just another day. He would have been on his way to Dorwinion himself to be with you, but it was not Thranduil that sat before him. It looked like him, but it was in fact the elf lord he knew before you arrival, the Elvenking.
"Respectfully, how do you expect me to look her in the eyes and not speak of you?""
"Maybe I was incorrect about your brain functions. It is as simple as you are. You do not speak to her at all. That woman and child are nothing to you. You are going there for your compensated duties, unless you would like me to involve myself in your affairs, such as with Baine?"
Bard took a step towards the Elvenking with a scowl upon his face.
"You dare to threaten my son??"
Thranduil stood from his seat and faced the angry bowman.
"I dare to dare as I please. With that said, I threaten no child. I am merely suggesting that he may be better suited for your position. After all, he did assist you, bravely I might add, in Smaug's demise and would take his duties seriously. He would not be concerned, as you are, with Josephine or my child."
"If I no longer work for you, nor will my son. I do not need your compensation, or have you forgotten I am a King as well? What I do for you and other lands are to help others instead of biding my time on a throne, wearing a pretty crown, drinking wine and patronizing others."
Although Thranduil looked upon the man with great dismay of his insult, he expected nothing less from one King to another, especially from Bard the brave.
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Bard returned the look, sat his chalice down and without another word or a single head bow, he left.
Thranduil made his way to his chambers, greatly vexed and having enough of the day's occurrences, only to find Tauriel awaiting him at his stairwell.
He found his eyes rolling once again as he walked past her in which she followed him down the stairs, offering a quick bow.
"Unless you have come to inform me that you have completed the task I ordered, I wish to enjoy my evening in peace and solitude." he snapped as he poured another glass of his cherished and mind numbing vintage.
"Apologies my lord, I have not, for I have something you may find of more importance for the time being." Tauriel strongly said as she paced about with worry.
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"What could be of more importance than ridding of that creature in the dhampir's womb??"
"This...my lord."
Tauriel extended her arm out and opened her hand to reveal Jareth's citrine gemstone.
The Elvenking's eyes rolled again, but this time, almost out of his head.
"Where have you come across this piece??"
"It was in Raven's possession. I fear she has had contact with Jareth. She claims he is aware of the child."
"It is no child. It is his demon seed."
Thranduil took the ring from her and eyed it over, before pulling out your moonstone that he swore he would not look at again.
"I now have two of the six runestones needed to destroy Jareth. My moonstone and Josephine's are of one piece, but only one of the pair is needed. Haldir possesses another, the emerald. I will inform Legolas to retrieve it."
"My lord...who has the other three?"
"Harker has the crystal prism in which he used as means of torture upon me. Somewhere, there is an amethyst and a pink tourmaline. All six each represent a strength...knowledge, love, birth, strength, destruction and death. I hold in my hands, love and death. Haldir holds birth. Harker holds destruction. Knowledge and strength still remain, as well as the book of shadows, I last recall, Julian concealed the three pages to raise the dead and they also are the only ones that can undo it. When all items are combined, along with Ashmole's spell, it is the only means to Jareth's permanent destruction, which is why he wants them for the obvious reason of preventing it. The issue we currently face are those three pages. It is all that is needed for Jareth to carry out his deadly plan. With Julian under his control, it is only a matter of time before the goblin king is in possession of those, if he is not already."
"My lord...this will be...ruinous."
"How remarkable, your observance of the obvious. I have had enough of this futile conversation and day at that. Come tomorrow at high noon, there will be a meeting before my throne and by the day's end, I expect my demands to be met."
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"My lord...if I may inquire...how is it that you desire me to handle the situation? Raven is not going to consume anything I give her, for she is aware of your plan."
"Slow-witted I perceived you not to be. Am I myself slow-witted as well for placing my faith in you?"
"No, of course not my lord, it's just that...there is no other way than...black magic...which is forbidden here....and the price... it comes back on the spellcaster three fold as you know."
"It is not forbidden if I so order it. I am the King of this realm, am I not? And as King, I have sovereignty, also do I not?"
"Y...yes my lord...I..."
"You nothing! Dispose of the evil entity as you see fit or find yourself in contempt of a direct order. I would advise against defying me or I assure you, the worst price you will suffer is my wrath."
"Yes, my lord." Tauriel bowed and rushed off, knowing she was already receiving her karma by Thranduil himself for all that she had done. He could have easily chosen any of is guard to complete the ungodly task, but he intentionally chose her out of spite and, like Raven believed, to test her loyalty. The most obvious though, was that it was to punish Jareth, as well as Raven, for all that they took from the King....you, his daughter and the vast majority of his will and his love.
Thranduil laid the pair of gems upon his desk and sat down, again gazing at his journal, wishing to add another entry, but he knew he would be easily tempted to read his past memories and feelings, so instead, he relished in his wine as he fondled your stone without thought....until he saw you appear inside again without warning.
It now seemed his touch brought you about, like rubbing a genie lamp.
He stood in utter shock, staring down at the vision, for this time he saw you with Lord Narcisse and it appeared to him to be an intimate moment. A kiss.
"How...Josephine?..." he whispered.
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Thranduil's heart shockingly burned him in agony. It was nothing like the jealousy and rage he had felt when he saw you with Haldir. This...this was true unexpected pain. Like a thief in the night, you broke into his heart.
As Narcisse arranged the dinner table in his chamber, a knock sounded upon his door. He smiled, knowing it was you by the way you lightly tapped three times.
"Jo...I was beginning to think you had changed your mind."
"No...I was tending to Leean when Haldir showed up." you explained as you went inside.
"Isss....everything alright?"
"I don't know. He knew I was coming here tonight, so he wanted to come stay with Lola and Leean, which I am surprised he even did. Stephane, he heard us outside the door earlier today, about me choosing to stay here with you. Needless to say, he was highly upset and things didn't go well. All we do is fight anymore and I feel so terrible. I miss him...the way things used to be until my mother came back into my life and turned it all upside down. Now I feel like he and I are so disconnected and...it hurts."
"Jo...you don't have to be here with me this evening. Why don't you go spend it with Haldir and try to make things right with him?"
You laughed as you poured some wine. "You...Stephane Narcisse, want me to go spend my night with Haldir instead of you?"
"Is that so unbelievable that I would want you to be happy?"
"No...I know you do, but I made these plans with you...actually we made them awhile ago and they got interrupted so....I want to stay right here, or I would not have came. With that said, is there anymore news on Harker or Bash?"
"Unfortunately no in regards to Harker. My guards are on continuous watch. No one sleeps until he is reprimanded. Bash was still resting but alert. He said he was feeling better and asked me to thank you for what you did for him."
"Well, I will go and visit with him tomorrow and let him know I was more than happy to help him. He's a good man, just like you."
Stephane's eyes fell and he walked off to pour himself a glass of the hard stuff. All the kind things you had said to him lately only made him feel worse by the minute for what he was concealing. He even tried to condone his own actions by telling himself that Thranduil was probably truly dead by now considering he had been imprisoned by Jareth all this time and all the other worldly experiences you had proved it. Even so, it wouldn't change anything though if you were to know Thranduil had been alive and that he kept it from you. It would actually make it much worse for Narcisse...and even harder on you. He was at a crossroads and didn't know which way to go and it was eating him alive.
"Hey, where'd you go just now?" you asked with a concerned smile.
"I'm sorry Jo...I just have so much on my mind."
"I know you do. Come on, let's eat. You went to all this trouble to have it prepared with all of this going on. Try to relax, unwind a bit."
'You're right, as always my lady. I hope it is to your liking." he said with a sly grin.
"Ok, what did you do this time Stephy?" you giggled and quickly lifted the silver lid off the large wooden plate in the middle.
You sucked in a gasp and released a loud squeal of joy as you saw a steaming hot homestyle pizza in front of you.
"Oh...my...god...you didn't."
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"I did, for once again, I paid attention." he smiled, and quite big at that to see you so happy. "I cannot take the credit for preparing it this time, but I did inform the cooks how to create it. It has crushed tomatoes, cheese, pork, mushrooms, onions and peppers. I hope that is alright? Oh, and I had one made to be taken to Haldir and Lola too, and dessert."
"Are you kidding?? It's...perfect Stephane...how sweet of you and....you're...perfect too."
"I wouldn't go that far my lady." he chuckled. "Here, let me cut it up for you."
The pie made three large pieces for each of you and you both ate every single piece, including the crust edge, which you never liked, and then you indulged in warm cherry pie, also specially made for you.
'Alright, I cannot eat another bite or I am going to burst." you laughed. "Thank you Stephane...so much for this. Two delish pies of perfection."
"I am just happy to see you smile."
"Well, that's because of you. I...I am really happy that I will be staying here for awhile with you. I know I have to go back to Mirkwood at some point...for Legolas. I know he misses Leean and they shouldn't be separated. But, I have a feeling it's going to be quite some time before I can go back. It is far too dangerous right now."
"Jo...I..I don't ever want you to leave. I know you must...but...I..I will never see you. It is not like Mirkwood is just down the road. It's miles away."
"Stephane, when all of this is over and it's safe, I can travel to see you and you can even come see me. We could rotate months." you jested, but Stephane didn't laugh. Instead, he quietly got up to go get another drink, his hand trembling as he poured it.
"Steph, it will be alright? It's only a few days travel. I can hitch a ride with Bard on his deliveries. I will always want to see you. You...you mean a lot to me and you're always here for me when I need you."
Narcisse guzzled his whiskey and then sat down in another chair as he rubbed his hand over his face, obviously upset....and then...he just broke down crying.
You didn't know what was happening or what to do. This was so unlike Narcisse. The tough and strong warlock you knew was now merely a lost little boy, but you of all people knew one could only be strong for so long when the world was crumbling around you.
Slowly, you approached him with compassion. When he realized you were standing before him, he stopped his tears and rolled his embarrassed glistening eyes up to you.
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You knelt down and took his tear soaked face into your hands.
"Stephane, sweetheart. What is it?" you softly asked as your concerned eyes studied his.
"Jo...I..I know this is not like me...but...I cannot keep this inside any longer."
His hand raised to your cheek, stroking your hair behind your ear.
"Ok? Talk to me. You can tell me anything. I am here for you as you always are for me."
Narcisse closed his eyes and sighed, then lightly traced your lips with his fingertips.
"Jo...that rare jewel I once told you I have yet to see of love? I found it...I....I...love you..."
Your eyes widened and you found yourself speechless, except for the small gasp that escaped your lips.
"You...do not have to say anything Jo. I just needed you to know....and I...I don't want you to go away. I've never felt this way and I am terrified of losing you..."
You still couldn't speak as you gazed into his sincerely love filled eyes of teary blue. Instead, you found yourself pulling his lips to yours.
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Ranpo Edogawa Headcanons/Facts
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-Ranpo wasn't born in the Yokohama and he had to take on many different jobs to earn money before he was a detective. He was often fired for being to cocky and not doing work just because "it wasn't interesting enough" or he just quit.
-Ranpo always looked up to his father and wanted to follow in his foot steps of being a detective but his father didn't want him to because is was "dangerous". So whenever his dad got cases he wouldn't tell Ranpo until he got back which sometimes he would disappear for days. This made it so whenever Fukuzawa leaves Ranpo alone for business Ranpo always gets nervous that he won't come back.
-It is canon That Ranpo is scared of the dark and sleeps witha night light.
-Ranpo can't watch or read Real crime books because he almost instantly Finds out how its going to end within seconds.
-Ranpo acts a bit childish now because he never got to have a real childhood. (Dad leaving for days at a time, Mom being sick)
-When Ranpo arrived at the ADA he never had to do the "test" for two reasons, One being the fact that he was the First ADA member and two being that When he first got there He would just start to show up to Crime scenes he saw and solve the case saying that he was already part of the ADA.
-Fukuzawa Always wanted kids but he never had the time to start a family so when Ranpo and all the other ADA members started joining he was happy. (He once over heard a conversation between Ranpo and Kunikida about how the whole ADA saw him as a father figure, but neither of them would ever admit they said that.)
-Ranpo actually needs Glasses and he knows that now but he used to think that putting on the glasses helped him see "Sharper" due to his ability.
-Ranpo and Yosano Have nights where they Stay late at the agency saying that they'd "lock the doors when everyone leaves" But instead they eat snacks and gossip about the agency. One time Dazai caught them and joined in on the conversation. (Fukazawa saw on the cameras the next morning)
-Dazai one, but the reason Dazai wears a Trench Coat is because it reminds him of Odasaku.
-Ranpos eyes were Brown in the manga just thought I would throw that out there.
-Ranpo is the only Character in the show that does not have a reference to the Author.
-In the anime Poe had admired Ranpo but in real life it was Reversed, Edogawas Pen name was based of a Edgar Allan Poe book.
-there has been a countless number of times where the power goes out at the agency and it goes pitch black that Ranpo would instantly Cling to the closest person and hold on to them until there's some type of light. Even if he was sleeping he would almost instantly wake up.(Not a Spoiler but in dead apple the power went out and he immediately woke up)
-Ranpo was kidnapped after he tried to track down a criminal by himself, and Fukuzawa saved him. He then gave Ranpo glasses to activate his "ability," as well as a place to belong.
-Ranpo is the oldest member at 26-years-old. Ranpo being the oldest member is mentioned when Atsushi asks why Ranpo does not do anything, as the other members say he does not need to because he is the oldest one.
While this is a cover-up because he cannot do everyday tasks without breaking anything, he is the oldest as well as the first member.
-Ranpo And Poe kept in touch after the Guild Arc and its canon that Ranpo try to feed Karl sweets. Poe panics every time.
-the Reason Ranpo where's his hat is because his dad wore the same one.
-Also Ranpo doesn’t read the newspaper because he's old its because when he was a kid he would read stories about his dad in the papers and it became a habit so he could see where his dad was and what he was doing.
-I know I already said he didn't grow up in Yokohama, but part of the reason he gets lost so easily is bc he grew up in the countryside.
Also the ADA has had to put up missing person flyer because they've lost him multiple times
-Ranpo gets frustrated really easily and when he does he just goes quiet. He’s also a silent crier
-Ranpo’s body falls asleep super easily and he gets super scared anytime he wakes up no not feel his feet
-Ranpo doesn’t know how to respond to stupid questions so he just stays silent and stares at whoever asked
-the reason why Ranpo's tie is so loose is because he had Fukuzawa tie it for him since he still can't master how to do it, and then he just loosens it and puts it on and off everyday without undoing the knot so he doesn't have to tie it
-Dazai was terrified of Ranpo when he first joined the ADA Because he was scared that he would tell people about Dazais old job
-Dazai and Ranpo have a silent agreement that when Dazai is out avoiding work he will bring back a snack for Ranpo.
-Kunikida has candy on him at all time for Ranpo.
-wide accepted headcanon that Ranpo has Autism
-Ranpo dressed up as a witch with his dad for Halloween and they took a picture near the fountain in Yokohama. (Where BSD takes place)
-Along with the Halloween one, When Ranpo first joined the ADA he saw Fukuzawa as a father figure. So that Halloween Ranpo bought the same witch costume in his size and recreated the picture of him and his dad with him and Fukuzawa. He now has both photos next to his bed.
-Part of the reason his eyes are closed all the I'm is because he has a hard time making eye contact
-Ranpo didn't have many friends as a kid because he would accidentally say something about other kids lifes (secrets, expose lies, stuff like that) because he thought everyone could see through the lies easily.
-Sometimes when he goes out to eat food he gets upset because the smell reminds him of his mothers cooking.
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labradorite-skies · 2 years
Text
With an S/O who's weak to cold
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✧・゚: * Prompt ~ Fluff headcanons with Kunikida, Atsushi, Dazai, and Poe with a s/o who is weak to lower temperatures ~ ✧・゚: * Characters ~ Kunikida, Atsushi, Dazai, Poe (individually x gn!reader) ~ ✧・゚: * Content ~ Reader that’s weak to cold, fluff all around, brief death mention (it’s Dazai) ~ ✧・゚: * Type ~ Fluff, headcannons ~ ✧・゚: * Author’s Note ~ This one was a ton of fun to write, I threw Poe in there as well because I had some ideas for him too. I hope you like it! ~
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✧・゚: * Doppo Kunikida
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❈ This man is hard at work reorganizing his notes to make sure that everything he plans will make you comfortable as soon as possible. There might be some slight grumbling about having to rework it all, but he's really more than happy to do it and loved the chance to review everything.
| ✧ Expect a lot of clarifying questions, if you're comfortable with them, to make sure he's doing everything properly. Is it only under certain conditions? Are foods an issue? What should he have on him to help most effectively?
❈ As soon as he has his new plan, he will be on it 100%. Before you even have the chance to become uncomfortable, he'll correct any issues. Always has a spare jacket with him if he's going to be with you, just in case. And maybe an extra spare, to be safe.
❈ He will definitely curse out the weather if it changes too fast. I feel like he'd be the type to complain about it if it was different than the forecast anyway, but if it's making his s/o uncomfortable? Unacceptable.
❈ He just wants you to be perfectly content at all times, and anything in his power he can do to help with that, you can consider it done.
✧・゚: * Atsushi Nakajima
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❈ I feel like he’d be very aware of your needs generally, but especially with the cold, considering what he was wearing before he got an outfit from the ADA.
| ✧His old orphanage messed up a perfectly good man, that’s what they did. Look at it, it's got anxiety.
❈ That being said, he will now make sure he does everything he can to keep you warm. Make sure that you always have enough layers available, anywhere you’re staying is well heated enough, the works.
❈ He probably runs warm, so he’s more than happy to cuddle up to you, and will initiate it anytime he sees you shivering. I think he’d also use his ability, so you could snuggle up with his warm fur when you’d like.
✧・゚: * Osamu Dazai
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❈ Get ready for plenty of jokes about freezing to death together, it comes with the territory.
❈ He will do a lot to make sure that you’re accommodated though it will either be very obvious or things you’d never even think to question.
❈ Most of the things he does without you even knowing, or anyone else realizing for that matter. As soon as he finds out, you’re never going on a mission/errand in the cold again. It just won’t even come up, he’ll keep the conversation toward any other options to go. If you work for the ADA with him, the building will always be kept high enough that he doesn’t need to worry about you.
| ✧ Though Kunikida would definitely complain about the constant use of electricity being out of budget if he didn’t know why.
❈ But, doing things to help you that you notice? Expect a big show, all the dramatics. Flailing and acting like he’s going to freeze without it when he gives you his coat (those bandages keep him plenty warm don’t worry about it), or the absolute quest that is going into the other room and grabbing you a blanket for movie night.
❈ He wants the attention, after all, if he’s doing so much for you like this, you simply must thank him for it.
✧・゚: * Edgar Allan Poe
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❈ I think that Poe runs cold anyway, look at him, he definitely has no circulation.
| ✧ This is not helped by the fact that he picks janky old buildings, abandoned castles, and victorian style mansions anytime he can for the aesthetic.
❈ So, with a s/o that’s bad with cold, it’s both a blessing and a curse. He’ll be worried about you, and fretting over making everything comfortable for you, but making him actually warm-up is definitely good for him. Use those fancy fireplaces for once.
❈ He has enough layers to share though and will do so. If he notices you getting chilly, he’ll be quick to give you his cape and ribbon, and more if you need them.
| ✧ Also, Karl makes a great lap (or shoulder, chest, etc) warmer, and will gladly sit on you as well.
❈ Warm this boy up with you? Please, he needs it. Grab him and cuddle next to the (sixth) industrial-strength space heater he just bought you.
Requests | CLOSED |
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cocogrrrl · 8 months
Text
rendezvous
Chapter 6: Poorly Disguised Exposition
captain yates and kyle share a conversation.
wc: 1050 no cws check the series masterlist here! previous chapter
an: i changed quite a couple detail from last chapter whoops guys so check out the last chapter again 😧 sorry 4 the shorter chapters, the next one's definitely gonna be a lot longer ! I'm almost done w the next chap :P
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He took the offer.
It’s only been three days. He hasn’t gotten any major clues yet, but none of the tasks he’s been given weren't been crimes yet. They typically ranged from wearing his hair up at work to pouring himself a drink. He’d send photos of him doing them and would receive small hints like timeframes, small connections, et cetera. It wasn’t much, but every detail helped.
He felt like this was cheating, though. He’s always lived by the code that a good detective does their work independently and definitely separately from the doer of the crime. It seems that he was a bad detective then.
Kenny and Kevin had no idea of this. Even if they were people he knew he could trust, he was in a messy place. More voices could just fuel the chaos even further.
“So, how’s it going, Broflovski?” Captain Yates greeted, giving two pats on the back.
Currently, Kyle’s nose was glued onto his desk. “It’s been going well. I just need more evidence on YN. I’m sure it’s her.”
“Yeah?”
“Positive.” He sighed, looking over all the evidence again.
“You think you can give me a rundown on the case details again?”
“How come, sir?” Kyle asked confused. I mean, his captain is the one managing him. Wouldn’t he have a scope of the cases his people deal with?
“Oh, well, fuck me. I can’t be forgetful now, can’t I?” He spat with a roll of the eye.
“Sir, this is a string of murders. I don’t think this is something you can just,” he paused, a hint of judgment in the gaze he gave his higher-up. “Brush something off like that…”
“I’m sorry then.” He hissed, tone heavy in sarcasm.
He only hummed in reply, not wanting to give in submission to his boss. “Here’s the rundown of the case anyway, captain.” Well, he didn’t want to directly submit to his boss. He said, handing him the files.
“Basically,” Kyle breathed. “The string of murders around the South Park area have all been connected by, primarily, one detail: written letters on the sites. I’m not exactly sure how all these people are connected yet, unfortunately.”
“Yeah, yeah. What about the letters, though?”
“The letters, uh,” he scrambled through the bagged papers. “They were signed with the name ‘Annabel Lee.’ I assume that this isn’t the name of the person, seeing how we have zero records of anyone with that name that lives here. I believe it’s someone who likes poetry, though?”
“The fuck does poetry have to do with murder?”
“Well, you see, Edgar Allan Poe has this poem called ‘Annabel Lee,’ and it’s about love and all that other crappy destiny sad stuff. The letters at the crime scene were love letters.” This connection had come from the anonymous texter. How wonderful. His own sense of shame hung over him as he said this fact.
“Psh, whoever wrote that must be a pussy.” He said, swigging his coffee around like it had a lid on (it didn’t). ”I don’t think that the gang leader you’re catching is that big of a loser, kid.”
“I know, I know, but I got some information from a friend that she recently came back from a real bad heartbreak.” Once more, information from the texter.
A captious look from the captain struck Kyle. “So, she’s killing people because they remind her of her ex or something?”
“Well, it sounds stupid if you put it like that, but look!” He nervously spoke up. “All the people here have connections with her and her gang one way or another. I still have to collect a copy of her handwriting to have it compared. I'm sure it's her.s.”
For some stupid reason, his certainty slowly dissipated from his spine. He felt like he was withering. He’s extremely sure of himself and of what little information, don’t get him wrong, but his confidence seemed to falter whenever challenged. At least, now, though.
Despite the tough skin he seems to showcase, Kyle is a fragile man at his core. Any sort of judgment he’s faced with, he immediately starts to spiral and rethink every single decision he’s ever made. Assurance is not assured for him.
“Huh.” He nodded. The nod provided a strange feeling of gratification for him. It felt like a ‘Good job!’ sticker for Kyle. It eased all the worries that came a split second ago instantly.
Slowly regaining his confidence, he continued. “Yeah. If I’m correct, she met up with them at least 5 days prior to their deaths. Knowing how she’s our biggest threat to lower crime rates here, it might be no wonder why people have been dying left and right.”
“So from loan shark to murderer, she's only causing more crime here, huh?”
“Yes. I am a hundred percent certain. I just need the evidence.”
“Well, you go do that, kiddo.” He said, concluding their conversation as he headed back to his office.
A breath Kyle didn’t even realize he was holding was let out. He put the files back in their place and quickly found himself slumped over his desk. He didn’t know why, but that conversation felt like it took his everything just to sludge through it.
Could it have been because he hated being around Captain Yates? That his very presence next to Kyle makes him want to shrivel up and evaporate? Possibly, but unlikely.
In truth, it’s probably because of Kyle’s delicate self, but that’s something he’s not gonna touch on for now. It’s too heavy for a time when other people need him more than he could possibly need himself.
A noise swept him off of his thoughts, though. It was a notification from YN. Actually, it was quite a few messages from YN.
Speaking of which, he hadn’t really talked to you since that previous night. I mean, sure, you two messaged each other back and forth every couple of hours, but you haven’t had a full proper conversation since. He should probably ask you out soon.
April 3, 11:21 AM
yn hi brad!! the girls and i are going out tonight and i was wondering if you wanted to continue where we left off??
Huh. Seems like she did the job for him then.
next chapter.
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